Remember Mortality
by romantiscue
Summary: After the war, the world-weary not-so-human Harry and Draco go in search of Harry's relatives to a place very much unknown. The two gets caught up in the mess that is Konoha's post-Kyuubi situation, and ends up drafted into the shadowy ANBU forces. ON HOLD; currently dissatisfied with the story in general.
1. How and why it all began

**A means to the end**** (Remember Mortality)**

The differences between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor wasn't all that remarkable- not in the 11 year olds that arrived at Hogwarts to be Sorted and not in the people Harry had met after his graduation from Hogwarts. The only place where the Houses mattered were the years they spent at the school itself.

They were conditioned in a way, Harry supposed, to think that the differences _were_ that big. It was ingrained into the very core of the school, into the teachers' behaviors- even the Headmaster's. So when they were thrown out into the real world, attitude readjustments had to be made quickly. Nobody cared what house you had been in as long as you could do your job properly.

There were of course, exceptions. After The Years of War, which was what the First and Second Wars were commonly called, the relations between Slytherin and Gryffindor ex-students were at an all time low. It wasn't all that strange, considering that Slytherin House had made up most of Voldemort's support base, but it was a hindrance in the working relationships of the Ministry officials.

The Slytherin students were followed by suspicious eyes- even those that hadn't been involved in the war. People knew the crest they had worn, and passed their judgment. There wasn't any overtly displayed discrimination, though. The exclusion of the Slytherin's showed mostly in someone's pursed lips, in the way people wouldn't meet their eyes or turn slightly in the other direction as they passed…

The tension was almost palpable at times (especially when news of found missing Death Eater victims were announced, which occured nearly every week).

Still, Harry wouldn't have thought that his friendship with Draco Malfoy would have been cause for such vicious rumors.

He was now thought to be, courtesy of Rita Skeeter, the next Dark Lord (Draco had snorted at the notion). New stories popped up every day, and to Harry, it was Second Year all over again. The fact that he had been the one to defeat Voldemort, and that he had been a Gryffindor, didn't seem to matter. Nor did anyone seem to care about the sacrifices he had made for them. The sacrifices he and _Draco_ had made.

The normal rules didn't apply to him- he was a relic of war, a forgotten tool… Now that he had fulfilled his purpose he was no longer necessary, and so he was to be disposed of.

It shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. Harry knew the wizarding world was fickle- had known since Fifth Year- but he hadn't thought that they'd turn their backs on him like this…

He had been their weapon; a means to an end.

That the minister seemed to be subtly cheering the traitors on- making odd comments about the dangers of power, about how easily corrupted young, powerful people were…- served to strengthen Harry's resolve. He had talked his plans over with Draco, and together they had gone through the Black, Potter and Malfoy libraries, learning as much as they could to ensure that they would survive if the wizards of England ever decided to do more than just _talk_ about killing them.

They learnt quickly, desperation and self-preservation turning into steely resolve.

Neither of them had expected to live to the end of the war, hadn't really _wanted_ to live; not after all they had seen, all they had done for the Light. Still, they weren't going to accept their deaths at the hand of back-stabbing cowards they had worked so hard to save.

His thoughts straying, Harry reflected that the Light really wasn't very "Light" at all. At least it hadn't been by the end of the war. There were no dirty tactics, nothing you didn't use to ensure that "your people" stayed alive. In the end, they were as bad as the Death Eaters, but claimed different loyalties.

Draco had become a spy by the end of their Fifth Year. After one year as a Death Eater, he had seen the truth of the Dark Lord's so called 'noble' cause. Several younger Slytherins' turned to the Light after his choice, thinking that _if a Malfoy can do it, so can I._ The Order gained a few older members from the House of Snakes as well, thanks to Draco's choice. It wasn't so much a change of hearts as it was self-preservation that drove the Snakes, but allies are allies, and the Slytherin nature made them good spies.

The Gryffindor Trio had accepted Draco into their group after he pleaded his cause to Dumbledore, and under Veritaserum assured them of his defection. It had been remarkably easy to befriend the Pureblooded Heir, especially considering the Malfoy-Weasley feud, and the bad blood (no pun intended) between the trio and the blond Slytherin. But then, war did strange things to people.

They had all needed to grow up fast, and they couldn't afford to ostracize any of their allies. Finding that Draco Malfoy was in fact a rather interesting person, if a little spoilt and snobby, had therefore been quite the relief. To everyone's astonishment, Draco and Ron had hit it off almost immediately, bonding over a game of chess. Ron was usually the most prejudiced of the group, but since his father's and Percy's deaths he had been changing, little by little. Being the most impulsive of the trio, he had accepted Draco as his friend once he had proven himself not to be "a slimy two-faced snake" (Draco had taken offence, and they had yelled at each other for awhile before bursting into laughter).

Hermione had come around after Draco apologized (… and bribed her with a rare tome from the Malfoy library). The muggleborn had in the beginning been extremely wary of the Malfoy heir, expecting him to suddenly declare himself a spy for the Dark Lord, but had slowly started relaxing around him. Logically she knew that Veritaserum was impossible to fool, but setting aside years of animosity wasn't done overnight. Unless you were Ron.

Harry and Draco had taken awhile longer to recognize each other as anything other than the enemies they had always been, but their friendship had grown strong once they learned to rely on each other. They had grown up surprisingly similar, and had both been shocked at finding that they could relate to each other as much as they did. Neither had thought the others' life to been anything but perfect. Once they embraced their similarities, it was easier to accept their differences.

Fighting back-to-back they hadn't had much choice, especially when they had been out on the frontlines as full-fledged Order members.

Now, Harry and Draco were the only ones left of the Order and their group of friends. The war was over, yes, but they had hardly won. If nobody was there to celebrate with them, how could it possibly count as a victory?

England's population had been reduced to a few hundred thousand, scattered around the country. London, their current location, was in ruins, with the magical parts of the capital being the ones most intact. Most wizards had relocated to Manchester's magical neighborhoods though, as it had been virtually untouched by the war (Hermione had speculated that it was due to the large residual magic left of the Goblin rebellion of 1836 shielding the neighborhoods from harm. Everyone had stared at her blankly).

The wards surrounding Diagon Alley and the Ministry had held despite the constant Death Eater attacks, but the streets were empty and the windows dark. The crowded shopping alley was but a memory, and the moonlight flooded every nook and canny in a cold white light.

Walking by what had once been the Twins shop Harry couldn't help but sigh tiredly. He'd been keeping a tight leash on his emotions since Cedric died, but every time he saw a memento of his past life his chest tightened. It hurt to see the remains of that wonderful normalcy, the 'should have been's' and 'might have been's' that would have been reality if not for Voldemort and his sycophants.

Walking up the stairs to Gringotts where he was to meet Draco, Harry allowed himself a few seconds of 'what if's', before reality reinserted itself in the form of two Goblin guards. They nodded respectfully, recognizing him as a warrior, and he returned their greeting.

The Goblins had always been straightforward with their intentions, and he held no contempt for them. They respected fighters and money, and that was that. No ulterior motives. If they were considered a little blood-thirsty, well, who could blame them? Wizards had never been kind to their race.

Harry spotted the nearly white hair of his friend in the lobby, and made his way forwards. They had set up a meeting here because they needed explanation for their Inheritances, and the Goblin's were the only one to have access to explanations. Hopefully.

People didn't usually just become Vampires for no reason.

Being a Vampire had its advantages, sure, but it wasn't something they had counted on when they accepted the Heritage Rings.

Heritage Rings was something every pure-blood and half-blood with a pure-blooded parent received at their majority.

A wizard's majority started at 15, but due to the war they hadn't been able to claim their rings until a year later, when the war ended. The majority spanned over two years, ending at 17, when they reached the legal age.

These two years were normally devoted to learning how to act as full members of the wizarding community; focusing on politics, managing finances and learning the older traditional ways of wizards, while their magic stabilized.

The Heritage rings usually just allowed the teenagers access to the family vaults, and informed them of any bloodline abilities they had, so finding themselves first in a horrendous amount of pain, fainting, and later waking up with _fangs_, had been a big shock. Neither of them had been aware of any Vampire in their family trees.

Feeling their hearts still in their chests was the undeniable, unavoidable, _unwanted_ proof of their new… _deadness_.

After panicking (…not that neither of them actually admitted to panicking…), they had mutually decided to go to Gringotts to get answers. The Inheritance office was run by one Grimpull Nacheck, and they had set up a meeting at earliest nocturnal convenience.

As Harry drew closer to where Draco stood waiting, he refused to acknowledge the way he seemed to almost _glide_ forwards in a distinctly predatorily manner. Draco was wearing an unusually uncomfortable expression as well, lips pursed tightly and forehead furrowed.

The blonde usually wasn't one to show his discomfort openly (well, neither was Harry, admittedly), and Harry put a light hand on the other's shoulder in a comforting gesture, receiving a terse nod in acknowledgement.

The door they were standing in front of opened slightly, a green head peering out at them suspiciously. Draco raised an eyebrow in perceived amusement while Harry tapped his foot impatiently, neither allowing their previous nervousness and uncertainty to show. The Goblin glared at them before grudgingly allowing them to enter.

The room wasn't overly large or lavishly decorated, but it oozed authority; from the muted colors and high ceiling, to the sturdy mahogany desk and chairs. The Goblin behind the desk regarded them calmly, the same authority reflected in his gaze. The calm acknowledgement put them both slightly at ease.

Dealing with a snarky, contemptuous creature with their moods already spiraling downwards would most likely have resulted in bloodbath. They knew what they were capable of- or had known, at the very least. They hadn't been feared by the Death Eaters for nothing.

Grimpull waved them forward, his eyes widening imperceptibly at their way of walking. The bank was used to dealing with Nonhumans, but it wasn't something he would have expected in these two. He tapped his fingers together, showing pointy white teeth in a grin. This could get interesting.

When the two were seated, unwavering gazes focused on the Goblin and their bodies unnervingly still, Grimpull politely asked for the reason of the visit, though he now had a pretty good guess. But it wouldn't do to upset these two particular customers; they were both very rich and very dangerous. Even more so now than they were before.

Draco, being the one who had the most experience in dealing with Goblins due to his own his and father's numerous visits to the vault, began by stating the obvious, making sure not to appear emotional. Goblins appreciated logic and straightforwardness, so that was how he would appear. He Harry would catch on- he was pretty perceptive for a Lion.

"We're Vampires." He stated without inflection. "How?"

Grimpull started, not having expected to deal with humans as collected and levelheaded as this one obviously was, before tilting his head a little in approval and shuffling the organized parchments that covered the bottom of the drawer to his left. He had prepared the Inheritance papers for the Potters and the Malfoy family before arriving, but hadn't had a chance to look at them yet.

Since the end of the war, Gringotts had been busy, and the rebuilding of the Goblin cities had taken priority over everything else. He most likely wouldn't even have come here today if not for the fact that his two clients were from such old and rich families.

Clearing his throat, Grimpull took out two old looking parchments from the drawer. The Crests for their respective families were drawn on the back in full color, as was the old custom. He presented them to his two clients with a nod.

"These are your Inheritance papers, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy" Draco and Harry accepted the papers with tandem nods at the Goblin.

Harry turned the parchment in his hand around, apprehensive about what he may find. He didn't allow his nervousness to show on his face though, having realized long ago what a disadvantage the Gryffindor openness and honesty was in unfamiliar situations.

_Harry J Potter_

_Lord of the most Noble and Ancient House of Potter_

_Son of James Potter_

_Liquid assets (estimation):_

_11.678.000 Galleons, 4.000.00 Sickles, 3.000 Knuts_

_Assets:_

_Potter Mansion (Scotland)_

_Godric's Hollow Cottage (England)_

_Castle of Pri (Spain)_

_Bloodline Abilities:_

_Focus (Minor, Visum, ACTIVATED)_

_Parseltongue (Medium, Lingua, ACTIVATED)_

_Copy Wheel Eye (Major, Visum, DEACTIVATED - STASIS)_

_Ancient (MAJOR, Being, Dimidium, ACTIVATED)_

_Family Tree, Creatures:_

_Veela (12 generations ago)_

_Lamia (11 generations ago)_

_Ancient (? generations ago)_

Harry wasn't too surprised at his wealth, or the houses he had inherited, because he knew the Potters had always had quite a bit of money to their name. He drew a finger lightly over the name _Godric's Hollow_, _'Where it all began', _before focusing on the rest of the letter.

They had read about Bloodlines in class, since nearly all pure-bloods had at least one ability, but those abilities were both known and common; minor things that "ran in the family"-He remembered reading about Tracker's Sense and Focus- but he had never even heard of this …_Copy Wheel Eye_, or _Ancients._

Turning to ask Draco, he noticed that the other was still poring over his own paper, and so Harry leaned back in his chair and with a furrowed brow pondered the mystery of these unheard Bloodlines, while trying hard not to think about the fact that he had a Lamia in his family tree.

Draco stared at the paper in his hand for a second, taking note of how his friend's intently focused eyes scanned his own parchment and how tightly he was gripping the papers. Giving an inaudible sigh, he slowly allowed his eyes to trek the written words. He couldn't deny that he was… apprehensive about what he may find.

_Draco Abraxas Malfoy_

_Lord of the most Noble and Ancient House of__ Malfoy_

_Son of Lucius Malfoy_

_Liquid assets (estimation):_

_5.967.000 Galleons, 6.500.00 Sickles, 2.300 Knuts_

_Assets:_

_Malfoy Manor (England)_

_Malfoy Summerhouse (France)_

_Malfoy Summerhouse (Scotland)_

_Malfoy Castle (Italy)_

_Bloodline Abilities:_

_Lure (Medium,Vox Vocis, DEACTIVATED)_

_Ancient (MAJOR,Being, Dimidium, ACTIVATED)_

_Family Tree, Creatures:_

_Veela (10 generations ago)_

_Incubus (22 generations ago)_

_Ancient (? generations ago)_

Draco was rather shocked. _"Incubus?"_ He had guessed that his family had Veela somewhere several generations ago, but he hadn't heard anything about the other three. His father must have known, though, because it would have been in his own Inheritance papers. It was no wonder he had never spoken of it though. His father would never have admitted to being less than perfectly pure-blooded.

He wasn't surprised that the Malfoy fortune had dwindled down to less than a third of what it had been a few years ago, what with his father being the one who practically financed the whole Dark side during the war. Oh well, it wasn't like he'd miss any of the money. How odd it was to think like that though… less than two years ago the thought would probably have horrified him.

He turned to look at Harry, and found him already observing him carefully. Silently, the two teens gazed at each other before switching papers hesitantly. Both discreetly avoided the others' eyes.

The biggest shock for Draco was _Harry_ having a _Lamia_ ancestor of all things. A Lamia was a woman with a snake's lower body, said to be a human-eating demon of the old world. Salazar Slytherin was rumored to have had a Lamia grandparent, and the fear of Parselmouths had originally sprung up in England because of the murders she was said to have committed. The Lamia had thusly been one of the first beings to receive the label "Dark".

Harry was equally shocked at Draco's ancestry. Neither Incubi nor Succubi had been spotted for several centuries, and had started to fade into myth a few decades ago. Holding the proof of their existence in his hands, Harry couldn't help but remember what the creatures supposedly did to people- taking the appearance of men and women respectively, they practically _raped_ people in their sleep.

Well, mind-controlled sex might be more accurate, since it was technically consensual.

But then, who was he to say anything about his friend's heritage, when he had a snake demon in his family tree? Harry threw a glance at his friend, and gave him a small cautious smile. It must have looked like grimace and not like the reassurance Harry had wanted it to be- with the way his lips refused to obey him properly- but Draco returned it half-heartedly, and then abruptly turned to face Grimpull who (was watching them with avid interest) with a stony expression.

"This doesn't contain any information beyond the bare basics." He stated frostily, eyes flashing in annoyance. He knew his and Harry's distress was getting to him, but this really hadn't answered his question. They still didn't know why they were Vampires.

Grimpull nodded sharply, and settled back into the chair. He remained calm on the surface, but the duo was unnerving him. He could see something cold flashing behind the blonde's grey eyes, contained behind a veil of humanity. He cleared his throat again, preparing a long explanation. It wouldn't do to get these particular customers angrier.

"Mr. Malfoy, this is merely a summary of your assets. The old families have always been paranoid, and wouldn't allow anyone outside of the family to know the full extent of your new talents and wealth. The full list should be within your family vaults."

Seeing that the two were starting to relax slightly, Grimpull calmed down a little. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he leaned forwards and continued.

"May I have a look at the papers?" He accepted the parchments gracefully, aware of their suspicious gazes but ignoring them. He scanned the papers with a professional eye, nearly gaping at some of the notes written down. Well, he would have to play this carefully.

"Mr. Potter, I shall first attempt to explain the Copy Wheel Eye, assuming you are unaware of what it is?"

At the Potter heir's nod, he continued.

"The Copy Wheel Eye; called the _Sharingan _in its native language, is a Bloodline Ability that originates from Old Asia exclusive to the Uchiha clan of _Konohagakure no Sato_, or the Village Hidden in Leaves."

Sensing their confused and somewhat threatening stares he continued hastily.

"_Konohagakure _is a part of a separate "magical" community that exists parallel to ours. Their community and ours have been separated for several centuries due to a war that raged between their people and your people a long time ago, and most have forgotten about the other's existence.

Their community is aptly named the Hidden Countries due to the powerful illusions that shields it from the rest of the world, and is one of the few magical communities in the world that coexist with muggles.

The people of the Hidden Countries use a form of power called _chakra_, which is the connected power of body and spirit. They are not wizards per se; every living creature has some amount of _chakra_, but it takes both rigorous training and control to wield it. Even then, only people with a high concentration of chakra are able to use it.

The people without the ability, or strength, to wield chakra hire _Shinobi_, ninjas, to work for them."

At their questioning gazes Grimpull added, "I have several scrolls on _Shinobi_ for you to read to gain better understanding of the work they do."

"The only people in the Hidden Countries are humans… and later, demons" he trailed off, wondering how much he should tell them about the Realms of existence. After a few moments, Grimpull gave a rather human-like shrug, and held up a finger to signal for his clients to wait as he went to one of the hidden bookcases in the wall behind the desk.

Inserting a claw-like nail into an inconspicuous crack, he waited as the stones split in two, revealing several books and scrolls stapled on top of each other.

He pulled out two identical gigantic scrolls in yellowed paper, handling them with great care. He nodded as he handed the scrolls to the two Ancients. It should explain about both the _Sharingan_ and about the Hidden Countries in general. The information contained in the scrolls was most likely outdated, but the duo would surely take that into consideration when they read.

The three beings sat in complete silence during the hour Draco and Harry read through the heavy scrolls. Various almost-expressions flitted over their faces as they read, but Grimpull couldn't read any of them as they were gone as fast as they came.

"This explains… a lot," Harry started, closing the scroll slowly. His mind was reeling from all the information. "But I'm going to go ahead and assume that I will not be able to use this _Sharingan_ thing" he tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the scroll.

"That is my belief as well. As Ancients you are technically dead, and therefore unable to use chakra, which is a requirement for the _Sharingan_," the Goblin looked at the Potter heir almost apologetically. "If there was a way of doing a chakra 'scan', I am almost certain that both your chakra coils would be empty."

Harry nodded sharply. It didn't bother him much; can't miss what you've never had, after all.

"What I don't understand though, is how the Potters and the Uchihas could be of the same ancestry? It said in the scroll that the Uchiha line began only a century ago, beginning with Uchiha Madara?" Grimpull nodded.

"Uchiha Madara's second son, Uchiha Satoshi, married Elizabeth Potter, a Squib who immigrated to the Hidden Countries around 1910 and went under the name Takao Himitsu. The Uchiha genes were stronger than her nearly nonexistent magic, and their children were all magic-less, but with a potential for the _Sharingan. _She, for reasons unknown, chose to secretly send her first born back to the Potters, who then adopted him, despite his lack of magic. As he grew up, he married a witch. Their children in turn, became magical but without the _Sharingan_.

Perhaps the _Sharingan_ would have been cancelled out by your magic anyway, even if you had still been… alive. "

Draco was gazing speculatively at Harry, listening with one ear but immersed in other thoughts, before musing out loud, "If the Potters and the Uchihas were once the same family, or at least intermarried at some point… Wouldn't Harry have relatives at in Konoha?"

Harry looked at him with wide eyes. He hadn't even considered it.

'_Gryffindors!' _Draco nearly rolled his eyes. '_But then, with a childhood like his it isn't that surprising, I guess…'_ he continued, frowning inwardly. Harry had told him about the Dursley's, and what they had _literally_ beaten into him in his younger years; _nobody would ever want a freak like him. _Maybe his dark-haired friend still had the chance of getting to know his family, even if they were only related relatively far back.

"That would be… nice" Harry murmured, breaking Draco out of his musings. His voice was without inflection, but Draco could still feel the emotions that belied the apathetic tone.

"Now, before we allow ourselves to get completely side-tracked," Draco turned back to the Goblin "could you explain the whole waking-up-dead experience?" The Goblin grinned tootily, nodding.

"You both most likely have an Ancient as a one of the founders of your respective lines, and you two have must have somehow fulfilled whatever requirements necessary for a the Ancient genes to manifest. I do not know these requirements.

Ancients and Vampires are not, as is commonly believed, of the same race. Ancients, while having a similar appearance and mannerisms as Vampires in addition to being classified as Living Dead, are one of the few true Immortal races left in the world. It is said that the Ancients were the ones that originally _created_ Vampires to act as servants for them. Vampires used to be little more than blood-sucking monsters back in those days. They, as all races do, evolved.

Ancients are faster and stronger than Vampires, though not by much, and require less blood to 'live'." Grimpull smiled sardonically. "When I say that Ancients require blood to live, I mean that in the sense that blood enhances the Vampiric abilities. You can still survive without it."

"I have only dealt with one Ancient, a long time ago, which is why I know a bit about their nature. They are very secretive, so I doubt I know even a third of their –now your- powers. Seeing as you are only half into the full transformation, you will most likely need to feed in order to fully develop." Grimpull took in the pensive faces and trailed off, allowing the two Dark Creatures time to absorb the new information.

The whole drinking-blood thing didn't bother either of the two newly made Ancients overly much. They had both met Vampires, and hadn't found their feeding sessions repulsive or even all that strange. They had been allies; who cared what they ate?

The whole living forever, though… They hadn't counted on that.

Everybody they had cherished was dead, and they had been planning to live quietly for a few decades before succumbing to the eternal sleep.

Harry sighed internally. Nothing ever went the way it was supposed to. He shook his head mentally, pushing unnecessary thoughts to the back of his mind. This time he was the one who turned to Grimpull with a question.

"How did my great-grandmother cross the barrier between England and the Hidden Countries? Is there a way for us to do the same?" Harry asked wearily. Having to discard their plans for a quiet life, they might as well start over someplace new, if possible. It wasn't like anyone here would miss them, anyway.

Draco nodded in agreement. If his last living friend had family somewhere, they would go to hell and back to find them. They had no other bonds left, so they wouldn't be leaving anyone behind.

"Normally, no. Ms. Takao nee Potter had, despite being a squib, worked a short stint as an Unspeakable, and had access to several unique resources from within her department. To the rest of the world, she simply disappeared. Very few knew of her departure to the Hidden Countries." Grimpull paused, and opened the drawer again. He pulled out a parchment with the Potter crest on the back surrounded by three comma-like black symbols in a circle.

"She did, however leave a note for any heirs that had potential for the _Sharingan_."He handed the Potter ancient the letter, and closed the drawer.

Harry skimmed over the letter once, then cleared his throat and turned in the chair towards Draco.

"_Dear heir,_

_If you are reading this, you have the potential to activate my husband's clan's kekkei genkai, the Sharingan. I have left a scroll in the care of Grimpull Nacheck with my written observations on the world I now inhabit, and the clan I have married into. Before you read this, it would be best if you took a look at that; otherwise I fear you would not understand the contents of this letter._

_I have told nobody of my heritage, or my origins. They have forgotten the old world, and the war that split us, and so it must remain._

_I see the way Madara-sama, the Clan Head, manipulates the others, and I fear what he would do should he find out about wizardkind._

_The barrier between our worlds is impossible to break, as it is self-sustaining, but I have created within the Potter Heritage ring a way to circumvent the shields to cross the worlds. I won't go into detail about how I made it, but know that the process required blood, sweat and tears in the most literal sense. _

_This technique has a flaw, however. One may only cross the barrier three times, after that the shields will recognize the presences trying to slip through. If it wasn't such a hindrance, I would have been impressed by this amazing feat of magic and chakra. It is like none I have ever seen before._

_Once your signature, dear heir, is accepted within the Heritage rings it will override my own and you will have the choice of stepping through the barrier. Mind who you bring with you, heir, as I have only travelled with my son when I went back to the wizarding world;_

_I do not know how many people you could bring through safely._

_To go through the barrier, travel to the northern cliffs outside of Wales. I have marked the place I went through with the same crest as the one on this letter._

_Make sure you have skin contact with the ring as you pass through- both you and whomever you might choose to take with you. Bring only the worldly possessions you cannot leave behind, and make sure you take gems and pure gold, silver or other expensive metals to trade for money; the Hidden Countries does not have the same currency as the wizarding world._

_Best wishes,_

_Takao Himitsu nee Elizabeth Potter"_

There was a pause, and it seemed as if the room itself was holding its breath. Then Draco, who had had his head bowed during the reading, looked up at Harry steadily.

"When are we leaving?"

Harry blinked, the only expression of surprise that he would allow himself. He hadn't expected Draco to agree so fast… Or at all, really.

Draco might not have any living friends left, but he was used to a life in luxury- something Harry didn't know if the Hidden Countries, and the Uchiha, would –or could- provide…. But then, he supposed, they were more than rich… But they hadn't even had time to acclimate to the changes in their bodies, hadn't grieved over the ones that fell in the war, didn't know enough about _shinobi…_

Harry blinked again, shoving everything to the back of his mind once more. "In a month, if it all the same to you." Draco nodded, and that was that.

"Grimpull, we need to collect all gems and gold from our Vaults, and we are going to need an Extension Charmed bag. If you can find provide this for us within the hour, we'll give you control of the all monetary assets within our vaults." Draco stated, to Grimpull's immense shock. He turned back to Harry, who was watching them both with concealed amusement. Draco smirked slightly, before becoming serious.

"We aren't coming back, are we?" Harry closed his eyes briefly in response to the question, before shaking his head. There was nothing left for them here.

Grimpull cleared his throat shakily, looking between the two of them with shining eyes. He had never heard of a human bestowing such an honor to a Goblin before.

"It will be done." He stood up hastily, giving the two a half-bow, and scribbled something down on a piece of paper. He rushed to the Goblin guard standing right outside the door to the Inheritance office, and pushed the paper into the guard's hands with instructions to return quickly.

He returned to behind his desk, feeling the two pairs of eyes watching him, one pair in amusement, the other in confusion.

"My… Lords… If I may ask… How do you plan on spending the month before your leave?" Grimpull asked, altering his tone to convey his respect.

Draco arched an eyebrow, but stayed silent and allowed Harry to speak.

"We need to get used to our bodies, both our new way of… feeding and our new abilities. The Hidden Countries seem dangerous, and while we are used to fighting, we have never encountered _Shinobi _before." Grimpull nodded, he hadn't expected anything less.

They all sat in silence for a while, each in their own thoughts. Draco and Harry's eyes would meet every few seconds, and Draco could read gratefulness in the other's gaze. How Harry could have thought that Draco would allow him to go alone to this strange new world, he couldn't understand.

It was either a testament to how much his childhood upbringing was still affecting him, or maybe he just didn't think that Draco would be willing to stay with him if their lives changed drastically. Idiot Gryffindor.

Draco frowned slightly, and then smirked reassuringly at Harry who had tilted his head in a silent question. _"I'll stick by you" _he mouthed to the other Ancient, discreetly putting his right hand up to his chin to hide his lips from Grimpull's was a very Gryffindor –shudder- thing to say, but Harry didn't need him to play cloak and dagger at the moment.

The dark-haired Potter heir's lips twitched in amusement at the very un-Slytherin-like phrase, but he was grateful all the same. Draco was his last friend, and he didn't think he'd be able to leave him, even if he might find family in the Hidden Countries.

Draco had stood by him; he was family by heart if not by blood. He could be trusted; unknown family members, with possibly dangerous Clan Heads… not so much.

Suddenly, the Goblin guard slammed through the doors. Neither of the two Ancients were surprised, having heard his steps from through the door, and so they continued to sit in silence as the guard approached.

The two Goblins conversed curtly in Gobbledook, before the guard bowed and sped out the door again. Grimpull grinned greedily at the duo, nodding. They all leaned in to finish their arrangements.

A few hours later everything was finalized, and the duo made their way out of Gringotts, towards the forests of the North. All manner of treasures were hidden on their bodies, but unnoticed from the outside.

One month.

---

**Chapter 1, A/N: Please read before you ask questions.**

**Why did Ron accept Malfoy so easily?**

I wanted to make Ron the more mature one, for once. Often he is described as childish and narrow-minded- I wanted to break the mold a little (…before I killed him off.)

**Why did the war go bad so fast?**

In canon, Voldemort mostly sits around and kills a few people every now and then. I do not believe someone as volatile as Voldemot would have done so under such a long period. He would have wanted to restart the war as soon as he was able to.

I wanted him to create a war befitting of such a supposedly terrible enemy.

**What does … mean?**

Visum- Vision

Lingua- Language

Dimidium- Half

Vox Vocis- Voice, word, power, right, authority

**Wizarding ****Bloodlines?**

Why not? Parseltongue and Metamorphmagi can't be the only bloodline abilities in existence.

Focus is an ability to easily focus on small things, though it doesn't have any effect on the individual's actual eyesight (ex. The Snitch).

Lure is a vocal ability that manifests as an alluring singing voice. The individual can sing and sway their "victims" opinions/actions etc.

**If you want a second chapter, please review. I am rather unsure of my writing, so I would like some encouragement. Thank you for your time!**


	2. A whole new world

**Chapter 2**

**A whole new world**

A month had passed, and they were standing by the cliffs in the north of Wales, in front of the crest that had been drawn so many years ago. The vegetation along the cliffs was nearly non-existent, so it hadn't been hard to find. Down below the waves were crashing against a barren shore, the water murky blue and foreboding. A chilly wind whipped around the two silent figures, though neither of them appeared to notice.

They had spent their month well, getting adjusted to their new states of being remarkably fast for newly Sired Ancients. But then, adaption had always been important. They had lived deep inside a forest at the edges of northern Scotland, learning to feed upon animals –drinking from humans was still a little too uncomfortable- and how to utilize their new strength and speed properly. It had taken some time to make sure they didn't over-shoot the trees when they jumped, or crash through trees when they ran. Or smash into the wildlife, which was could get very gory when they weren't focused on hunting.

Both of them had discarded their shirts after finding that, even though they could still feel it, the temperature didn't affect them much anymore. They both donned several necklaces and hair ornaments, _seemingly_ made from animal teeth and an assortment of seashells. To an outside observer, they would appear as simple decorative jewelry, –well, the 'decorative' part is relative… and so is the 'jewellry' part…- but they weren't; most of the teeth were transfigured pouches, and the larger seashells contained the few objects of sentimental value that they hadn't been able to throw away.

Their faces had altered slightly, turning more aristocratic in appearance- Draco had whined a bit about looking too girly at first- and their bodies were lean and sinewy, though with Harry still being on the thinner side.

The duo had retained their most brutal scarring, but since their healing rates had sky-rocketed, a lot of their thinner scars had faded. Harry didn't really care either way; scars had always been a part of his identity. Draco was somewhat relieved, though, Harry knew.

His Slytherin friend was not all that vain (…any longer), but he had never gotten used to the way the scars changed his body from its porcelain flawlessness to what he viewed as marks of imperfections, of weaknesses laid bare for all to see.

He glanced at the other through the corner of his eye. Draco had grown out his hair with the aid of a spell, and it cascaded down his back like a waterfall, covering the most prominent- and by Draco most loathed- scars on his body. The scars his _loving aunt Bella_ had given him. They were the ones that hurt Draco the most, in more ways than one.

The blond nudged the other boy slightly, breaking Harry out of his reverie. Draco gestured to the crest in a questioning manner, with only his eyes betraying his impatience. Harry nodded, taking a hold of his friend's hand with the ring pressing against the other's palm, and turned to place his free hand against the crest.

Unseen by all but a few crows, a crack appeared in the middle of the air directly in front of the two. Light shone through the crack eerily, slowly enveloping the Ancients. A sound, like that of a huge vacuum-cleaner, echoed across the landscape.

The duo -hand in hand- jumped through.

---

They landed gracefully on a forest ground and assessed their surroundings immediately. The habits from the war were ingrained into their minds and enhanced by their now natural instincts, so the 'checking for threats' reaction was imminent when in a new situation. Sensing no immediate dangers, they dropped their guarded stances.

Draco sighed.

"I really wish that relative of yours would have included a map or something of this place" he ran a thin hand through his hair in muted annoyance. "With all these _shinobi _villages and what not, we could have ended up some place dangerous. Even for us."

Harry shrugged. "We're safe for now anyway." Draco glared at him in irritation, mumbling under his breath about reckless Gryffinors. Harry ignored him with well practiced ease and took a sniff of the air. He jerked his chin at a point to the left of his blond friend. "I can smell people that way." he stated, lifting a questioning eyebrow at Draco.

"I can smell them as well. Are you sure we should be going that direction, though?" _Running into ninja without any information doesn't seem like a good idea… Very _Gryffindor_, though._ Draco thought to Harry with a smirk playing on his lips. He still sounded a bit annoyed, though.

_I can't smell any metal or blood, Draco. It's probably just a smaller group of travelers. _Harry rolled his eyes at the blonde, who snorted but gave a small nod of agreement anyway.

_We could ask them for directions, or perhaps even a map… _Harry continued to muse thoughtfully. Draco nodded again and then swirled around to follow his nose to the group. Harry followed him, immersed in thoughts of Konoha and the Uchiha Clan.

* * *

Komugi Giza was a simple man. He wasn't religious, particularly ambitious or greedy. He and his family lived as simple farmers, supplying grain, milk and wool for the nearby smaller towns in exchange for money. It was a life of hard work and frequent travels, but Giza didn't mind; his family almost always went with him when he went to deliver the goods, and so he never felt lonely.

The trip from their small farm to the nearest town was one he and his family made often. It took half a day back and forth, tops, even with the wares they carried. The sunshine and the warm wind against his skin was a welcome change from the salty breezes that oftentimes swept through their part of the land.

Plus, his daughters enjoyed picking the flowers along the dirt road that lead to Numachi. They didn't have many material things- toys and the like- and seeing them both so obviously enjoying themselves in this manner lifted his spirits.

Numachi itself was situated on the Earth-Bird country border, but as Bird country had no shinobi to speak of, the border wasn't guarded too heavily. Bird an impoverished country where even bandits were rare. Why attack people that had nothing to give up?

This particular day, the Komugi family was delivering goods for Numachi's Sunday bazaar, consisting mostly of milk products and freshly harvested wheat. It was a common delivery at this time of the week.

Walking along the road, Giza was making small talk with his wife. Their children interrupted them ever so often with questions or comments about plants or animals they saw along the way, when Giza spotted something from the corner of his eye.

Giza wasn't shinobi, but he knew to be aware of his surroundings, or be prepared to pay dearly for his inattention. He took a hold of his wife's arm, drawing her closer to her body. He ignored her worried gaze in favor for scouting out the trees to his right, where he was sure something had been moving a few seconds ago.

"Well met, stranger." A melodical voice greeted him.

Giza started violently forward at the sight of an unknown person crouching next to his youngest daughter. As he neared them, prepared to defend his family from a possible threat, the person rose fluidly to meet his eyes.

The… boy –_Was it a boy?_ -was young, perhaps few years older than his oldest daughter. Long white-blond hair knotted with –_Were those_ seashells_?_ - flowing along his back and framing a pale face with long eyelashes and thin red lips. He didn't look like anyone Giza had ever seen before. It wasn't just his hair or the odd decorations, but the very structure of his face- for a lack of better words he looked almost …regal, despite the way he was dressed. Or undressed.

Nobles were rarely seen in the poverty-stricken Bird country, so Giza felt justified in his surprise.

Cold grey eyes met his carefully, but without nervousness or guilt or really any recognizable emotions. Giza felt his fists unclench at the absence of malice in the other's eyes, but he did not allow himself to relax. The blond tilted his head, and several of the necklaces and ornaments made of seashells and small knick-knacks clinked against each other as he moved. He appeared to be studying Giza in return, before taking a step backwards.

"I apologize; I did not mean to appear threatening." His accent was odd, a lilting note causing his words to flow together. He wasn't hard to understand, but it made him seem even more foreign than his looks did. _'Actually, he looks like he's been living in the woods for a time… Or by the sea…'_ Giza thought, nodding to the blond unsurely.

The blond abruptly turned towards the forest the framed the sides of the road, seemingly observing something just outside of view. When he turned back towards Giza his lips were turned up in a small smirk.

"Me and my companion were wondering if you could tell us how to get to the closest _Hidden Village._"

When Giza again started, the smirk widened, and he found himself captured by the cold gaze of the other. He recognized something in those grey orbs… something that made shills run down his spine. This boy was beautiful, yes, but he was also _dangerous_. Giza could feel it in his bones. The blonde's eyes were too much like those of the shinobi he sometimes met at the bazaar; holding secrets and shadows and too much knowledge of human cruelty…

Giza swallowed, before nodding hesitantly. He couldn't deny this dangerous boy the information he wanted, not when his family was this close by. And really, the stranger hadn't done anything…yet. But then, he didn't want to accidentally sell out a location that might lead to his family being persecuted, should the blonde's business with the Hidden Village be of… less than pleasant nature.

"I can take you and, ah, your companion to the Numachi bazaar, where you could probably find some shinobi to show you the way-" he glanced nervously into the woods, trying and failing to find said companion. He could feel the blonde's amusement and knowing stare even as he let his eyes wander. Without fully focusing he continued "-though I would wish to know who you are, stranger, and a promise that you will not drag my family into whatever business you have with the ninja." He finished his sentence with confidence he didn't feel, and suddenly found himself a lot closer to the blonde. Half expecting to be killed, he tensed.

"My name is Draco, and my companion's name is Harry. Pleased to meet you." Said companion stepped out of the trees to Giza's left, waving lightly. Giza was too occupied with being relieved that he was still alive to make any kind of response, until he actually focused his gaze on this _Harii_. The teenager had shoulder length tousled black hair and the deepest green eyes Giza had ever seen. He had the same regal structure to his face, carrying the same cold expression- though his was somewhat muted-, as _Dreiko_.

He was also, just like the blonde, excruciatingly beautiful with that same foreign "feel" to him. Giza couldn't help but stare, even as he saw his wife gape a little at the sight the two made.

As Harii approached Dreiko with flowing steps, Giza got a clearer look at them both bathed in the sunlight. And what an strange view it was.

Their skin- bone pale and smooth- almost_ shone._ He hadn't noticed at first because he had been focused on not getting killed, but now that he stood back and actually looked… It was very subtle, yes, but when Dreiko moved his arm to run a hand along his hair, and the sun hit his skin just _so_, there was a sort of… _shine_ added to his pale complexion.

And as he and his wife stared – his wife clutching their youngest daughter in a spastic grip- the duo stilled. _Completely_. It wasn't just that they stopped moving, but rather that they froze in place like statues. Completely still- as if they were dropping the façade of normalcy (if a dangerous kind of normal) they wore, and returning to their true forms. Beautiful, marble statues of angels staring back at him and his family –_judging_ _them_-

He heard his elder daughter take a deep breath.

As if by an invisible signal, the two started moving again, in unison. But the feeling of- of _inhumanness_, of something beyond, something more than even the strange, almost ethereal beauty and the danger that met the eye, lingered.

And Giza wasn't a religious man, but he didn't feel like taking any chances.

* * *

The whole family was still shooting backwards wary glances at Draco (and less often, Harry) from where they were walking ahead of them. The younger girl was the only one openly staring curiously –until her mother would give her small, nervous nudges, at which point she would turn straight ahead… until her overt curiosity would make her turn her head again, and her mother would nudge her yet again. The whole family appeared both awed and fearful, seeming unsure of how to treat them- the older girl blushed whenever she stole a glance at either of the duo, the father was respectful but incredibly cautious and the mother mostly nervous but also blushing (if less than her daughter).

Draco knew he had scared the man –Giza, his small Legilimency prod had supplied-, and while he didn't really care, he hadn't actually purposely meant to do it either. Something he was having a hard time convincing Harry of- though that was to be expected, when his mental argument consisted of variations of "_he's too insignificant to scare_". Draco was also aware that Harry didn't really care as much as he tried to let on. This mental bickering was mostly for distraction, and because distraction was what Harry needed at the moment, Draco shot his friend an arrogant smirk and repeated his 'argument'.

He could feel Harry becoming unfocused every now and then, but that was to be expected. Finding your estranged family in another world and travelling with another teenager as your only companion was bound to make anyone nervous. They had been through a lot together, yes, but becoming used to their new (inhuman) selves while still coping with the deaths of their friends and the destruction of their home (which they never really grieved for); it was just one stressful situation on top of another.

They had rekindled themselves to their vampiric abilities relatively easy, because the feral vampire instincts had as Harry put it, "come with the package". The package included extraordinary senses and heightened mental capabilities like better memory, visualization, understanding and intelligence, (Draco hadn't been able to resist making a few haughty remarks about the intelligence of Gryffindors in general at this point, which had led to an impromptu sparring match that shook the whole forest) and several different skills in both magical and physical combat. Really, they might not even have complained about their new way of feeding or their unwanted immortality, if not for one thing.

Almost complete loss of their wizard-magic.

It had taken them both a while to realize that for the most part, their "ordinary" magic was well and truly gone, since they were mostly sparring or hunting during the first few days of their relocation to the forest. But then, when Draco tried to cheat (though apparently it wasn't cheating if you were a Slytherin) during one of their spars and attempted to use Incarcerous, his wand didn't respond. No sparks shooting out at the tip of the wand, no warm rush of power surging through his veins … nothing.

They had both been quite hysterical for some time, ("_Why didn't Grimpull mention this?!"_) cursing and destroying trees, running at top-speed through the forest and so on. This, of course, hadn't helped them figure out anything at all- which both Draco and Harry realized a few days into their earthquake inducing tantrum. They had sat down, with dirty skin and even dirtier clothes, opposite each other.

After a short discussion- consisting mostly of unanswered questions, really- they had mutually decided that since they were going away from the wizarding world anyway, and had gained other abilities that would be very helpful in dealing with _shinobi,_ they would train the powers they had been granted, instead of missing the ones they had lost. Adaption had been one of the things that had kept them and their friends alive through the war, even when things were going to hell. Work with what you have, instead of pining after what you don't, had been the unstated motto when the resources were low.

Their new powers were much more combat-oriented than the general magic taught in school, and was based more on instinct than on precise articulation. So while they could no longer make a Galleon super-shiny with a flick of their wands, they could now for example strangle someone from within their own throats.

The wizard-magic that remained were magic that supported the vampiric magic- environmental and body magic- things that could be incorporated into a fight. They both focused very hard on not thinking about how many people would still be alive if they had had these abilities earlier.

The Immortal duo noticed the smells and sound of the Bazaar long before their guiding family did, and adjusted themselves accordingly. A shirt seemingly melted out of Draco's skin, wrapping his torso in the darkest black cloth. Harry followed his example, and ignored the surprised stares he got from the two women ahead of them once they realized that the duo was suddenly, out of nowhere, wearing shirts.

Draco watched all emotion bleed off his friend's face, turning his whole countenance to stone. Draco didn't ask why Harry was treating a visit to the bazaar the same way he used to treat hopeless missions back in England. Instead he sent a spark of reassurance –because a spark was all he could get through the raven's now tightly wound Occlumency shield- and adjusted his own expressions accordingly. This was an unofficial mission, and so he'd act like it.

**A whole new world, A/N:**

**I don't know how to describe Harry and Draco without making it sound like they have some sort of hive mentality! It's always "the two" or "the duo" when they do things together. Grr! Does it bother you terribly?**

**How does H and D look?**

I was afraid I'd be making D look to Mary-Sue (Not Gary-Stu… he's too pretty for that) with that long swooshy hair, which really isn't good for fighting either… But this is Draco we're talking about, and I figured that he should have long hair, if only to cover the scars on his back. He's still kind of vain, too. Oh, and Draco's eyes are truly gray, not some sparkly silver color (just so you know).

Harry's hair is shoulder-length but looks shorter because it's so messy. His eyes are green, and also aren't very sparkly.

Why aren't they wearing shirts? Because they were running around a forest for a month. I'm not doing it for the fangirlism, despite how it may seem. They have good bodies though, first from all the Quidditch then from training for the war and lastly because of the vampirism.

Giza described them as "excruciatingly beautiful" and "angels", but that's not only because of their beauty, but because he's not used to the way they look. Hygiene isn't the best among the poor in Bird either.

Their skin also does not shine, exactly. You know how Giza compared them to marble? Imagine weak sunlight hitting marble stone and dampen it a little. Their extremely pale complexion is what makes it kind of noticeable.

**Why did you take away (almost all of) Draco and Harry's wizard-magic?!**

I wanted to make sure that they weren't too super-powered. For them to have been able to use all elements in some form (Aguamenti, Incendio etc), and do things that technically didn't have anything to do with elements at all + their vampiric abilities would have given them such a huge advantage. It would be all too easy to have them sort of glide around and kill people left and right and never die or have trouble with any kind of shinobi. I didn't want that, because it tips the balance too much in their favor.

Make no mistake though- they are powerful still, just wait and see.

**Environmental magic/body magic?**

Environmental magic is magic that deals with using/changing the environment. Examples of this would be any branch of Herbology, or Transfiguration.

Body magic is anything that deals with using/changing the body. For example the Animagus transformation, Occlumency/Legilimency or spells that deals purely with oneself. Sealing/Ancient Runes constitutes as body magic as well, because the magic to power the Runes comes from within one's mind.

These two forms of magic can be collaborated or fusion'ed- for example Invisibility (Disillusion), which hides one's body (though it is in fact a Charm) utilizes both Environment (changing the air around the person) and Body magic (turning the body transparent/camouflaged). Another example is Scourgify (the cleaning/scouring spell) and Tergeo (removes blood, ink, dust etc from a surface) and Impervius (repels substances and outside forces), if used on oneself.

These are only examples of the wizard-magic parts, the vampire-magic will be explained as they show up.

_**Questions!**_

Do you want flashbacks? What do you want to see, in that case?

Do you want yaoi in this story? If you do, it's not going to be some sappy ---- where either part is super-uke and blushes at everything. I won't sacrifice the story for romance.

**Oh, and if I have made any kind of errors in this chapter, don't be afraid to tell me**

**Please review if you want a third chapter *bows***


	3. Situations & solutions

**Chapter 3**

**Situations ****& solutions**

Sarutobi Hiruzen sighed tiredly and sat down on an import-box in one of the alleys leading into the main market of the Numachi bazaar. He stretched his legs out in front of him, trying to relax for the first time since the Kyuubi had returned to him the position of Hokage, a little over a year ago. The effort was quite wasted though, as his thoughts refused to stop spinning around the seemingly never-ending uproar of the Village council since Minato's death. _"Minato, you had just begun your reign… Forgive me; it should have been I…" _

When Minato had first started creating the Shiki Fuuin, Sarutobi had not at all understood what type of Seal it was. While he did have a vast amount of knowledge at his disposal, he had never delved deeper into the Fuuin arts, the way Jiraiya and Minato had. So when Minato asked to borrow several of the Scrolls Jiraiya had left behind when then latter had gone to Snow Country for his "research", The Professor had agreed readily. He would not normally have given away another's possessions, but if one of his student's Scrolls possibly held knowledge of how to lock away the approaching Demon Lord, it was an easy decision.

Now look where they had ended up; the opposing sides of the council were on the verge of turning to civil war to get their motions through and this in turn had significantly slowed down the reconstruction of Konoha. He couldn't pick a side, because whichever side he opposed would regard it as a slight towards them. In the end, he had started calling in even higher-ranked ninja to help with the rebuilding of the more important constructions – the Wall had taken several hits of Kyuubi's tails and had really needed to be fixed long before this- but that led to a shortage of ninja that Konoha in reality couldn't afford at the moment. Several A- and S-classed missions had to be stalled because the ANBU were undermanned.

The casualties of Konoha's shinobi forces had not been as devastating as one might have thought when considering the might of the Nine-tails. Rather it was the civilian population that had taken the hardest blow. The evacuation of the non-shinobi population had not gone as smoothly as Minato had tried to arrange it; the Nine-tails had suddenly veered of its predicted course and stomped around in one of the almost exclusively civilian neighborhoods, leaving many destroyed buildings and casualties in its wake.

This led to the undeserved hatred of one small blonde boy running more rampant through the civilian populace than it did in the shinobi echelons. That's not to say many shinobi actually cared for young Naruto either. There had been several assassination attempts made until Sarutobi had had no choice but to decree specific laws concerning the Kyuubi's vessel. Shinobi were nothing if not loyal to their Hokage, so while there was some grumbling among the more adamant of the ninja, the attempts on Naruto's lives had ceased. For now.

Sarutobi was not foolish enough to believe that the lack of attempts meant a lack of hostility. Fearing that the resentment would grow with time, he sent away as many of the displeased shinobi he could spare to missions that took them outside of Konoha.

This served two purposes; firstly, he'd be able to sleep easier knowing that Naruto was safe –as safe as a Jinchuuriki would ever get, that is- secondly, it showed the other Villages that while the Kyuubi may have temporarily slowed his Village mission capabilities down, it had not weakened them enough for it to be beneficial for the other Villages to attack them. The alleged unrest in Iwa that had born whispers of the tidings of a new war had mostly been silenced when the other Villages had seen how quickly Konoha had reportedly bounced back from the attack.

_O__fficially_ the state of the Leaf was very good, and keeping up the pretense that their Village was in rather good condition despite everything, was almost as important as the unofficial rush to get everything back up and running the way it supposedly already was.

And that was why Sarutobi now found himself resting on the import-box after a tiring meeting with the Kazekage of the Sand, one of Konoha's most treasured –but regrettably shaky- alliances. The Kazekage was as intelligent s he was manipulative, and had during the meeting made many subtle hints and enquiries concerning how Konoha was truly faring. Sarutobi had been as evasive as he could without admitting to anything beyond that his Village was coping admirably, thank-you-very-much.

His ANBU bodyguards had been twitching nervously through the whole ordeal, so Sarutobi had ended up ordering them to take a break (though he had worded it slightly differently, proclaiming that the lack of nutrition 'would be to their detriment, should an enemy emerge'. They had reluctantly parted with him, disliking the idea of leaving their Hokage alone, but unwilling to disobey a direct order.), and then he promptly henge'd himself into a non-descript middle-aged man. He knew the ANBU would be unwilling to stay away for a second longer than necessary, but the disguise was an assurance that he would be left alone.

Sarutobi turned his head up and watched as two birds flew across the strip of sky he could see between the narrow alley houses. Pushing thoughts of obnoxious old codgers (the Council) and dangerously inquisitive Sandmen (the Kazekage) he let his senses wash over the general hum of the market place and relaxed. He hadn't had time to enjoy the autumn breeze for a long time, and would probably not have time to do it for another year until everything was settled.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes when the corner of his chakra-sense picked up something odd. Sarutobi stilled his breathing as much as he could and focused on the …two? spots of something that had just come in through the main gate of Numachi. The feeling the two gave off was very vague, and Sarutobi doubted anyone else would have spotted it- he had been a ninja for so long, and had seen and killed- so many strange things that he was tuned in to things out of the ordinary.

The Sarutobi bloodline- Dairokkan no Uta (Song of Intuition)- appeared in the male side of the family every odd generation or so, and sounded like a whisper of thought or feeling- kind of like a very persistent déjà vu- sometimes warning them of things of things to come or what decisions would benefit them the most at that time.

It had been the Dairokkan that convinced Sarutobi to choose Minato instead of Orochimaru as his successor, despite Orochimaru being a certified genius with a lot more experience to his name than the blond whirlwind. Sarutobi had had his doubts –despite the whispers of Dairokkan, Jiraiya's glowing recommendations and the evisceration of over half of Iwa's enemy forces during the war- because Orochimaru was been his priced student, a genius with an intellect that surpassed most and a knowledge-thirsty mind that reminded Sarutobi of himself in his younger years. So while Minato had been close to his heart, Orochimaru was the one Sarutobi would have nominated, had it not been for the whispers.

Orochimaru and he had had their first true fight that night, when Orochimaru in rage and disappointment lashed out at Sarutobi after the announcement. While Sarutobi hated the feeling of guilt and betrayal welling up inside of him as he watched his pale student's back grow distant as he left the destroyed training ground, a traitorous thought whispered that perhaps a Hokage with a temperament like Orochimaru's wouldn't have been very good in the long run.

And as he watched Minato fearlessly confront a monster of flame and red fur on top of Gamabunta, he knew beyond a doubt that he had chosen correctly.

Now, the Dairokkan was ensnaring his mind like a vine, the normally quiet whispers turned to near howls of nonvocal impressions and suggestions. It grew quieter as the two presences approached and Sarutobi knew that whatever the two were, they _needed_ to come to Konoha. Somehow, they would be of help.

Trying to soothe his beginning headache he massaged his temples in a circular motion while moving to intercept the two. The ANBU would surely notice that he had moved from his previous location, but they wouldn't worry (…too much) unless there were signs of a struggle at his previous location. As long as he flared his chakra every now and then, they would be able to find him.

As he came closer to the presences, the odder they felt. Now he could understand why he had been able to notice them so quickly. It was not that they had an unusual form of chakra; rather it felt like they were completely _lacking_ chakra. Like a human-shaped void in a place that otherwise bristled with life. It made Sarutobi disconcerted, though he did not allow any emotion to cross his face as he made his way leisurely towards the two. Never had he heard of shinobi capable of concealing their presence to the point where it became a hole in the air.

He listened for the whispers to cross his mind and perhaps bring him some insight as to what he was facing, but they stayed dauntingly silent. '_What am I about to invite into my Village? Kami-sama, I am getting too old for this…'_ Sarutobi felt the weight of his Hokage-hat more acutely than he had done since Minato's passing. It shamed him to admit that it was beginning to feel more like a burden than the privilege and an honor it had been before his reinstatement.

Suddenly, the chakra holes were in front of him, and he stopped long enough to catch a glimpse of something white and shiny before speeding up enough to make sure they didn't get away, but making sure to stay slow enough not to be perceived as a threat. He saw the two part with a small family, and felt his breath catch in his throat.

If you only considered their age, they could have belonged to the family, perhaps. But only the age matched. If you regarded any other aspect of their looks… the way they _moved_… They couldn't have been more different. Sarutobi couldn't have told you why their pattern of movement stood out so much to him; he had seen shinobi walk in the strangest of ways, acrobatic and animal-like, graceful and street brawler-ish… But there was something in the way that these two moved that felt different somehow. _'Perhaps they have a Kekkei Genkai that's enhancing their movement in some subtle way?'_

He shook his head, and then with a start realized that the duo was observing him. Had he really been caught in his thoughts for that long? _'Perhaps I truly am getting to old…'_ He thought he saw the blonds lips twitch minutely, but then his face reverted back to its previous stoniness, and he felt that he must have imagined it. The two really did look spectacular, though. Their very bone-structures seemed unfamiliar to him, despite the fact that he had travelled all over the Hidden Countries and seen all kinds of people.

He stepped forward, not allowing himself to muse more on it at the moment, and watched as the two tensed slightly, though their expressions never changed. He wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, but the way they watched him… it was unsettling. It seemed familiar too, that look, though he wasn't sure why. He wondered briefly if they could see through the henge, but dismissed the thought. He wouldn't drop it either way.

"What does one such as yourself want with us?" Sarutobi was once again startled. The blond's voice was aristocratic, in the same manner the Hyuugas were, but with an almost musical feel to it. If they were of the Clans, he needed to be extra careful. Clanmen were always prideful, and with how the whispers had been so very insistent that he bring them with him, it wouldn't do to insult them. Also, the phrase was oddly put –'_one such as yourself?'_- and he couldn't be sure how much they could see through.

"I was merely wondering what two young men was doing here at this time of the day?" It wasn't an odd question, per se. Usually the teenager started dropping by the bazaar during the evening, when the fireworks started. He didn't believe it would fool them however; rather, it was an opening to begin a conversation (interrogation) and perhaps find out more about the duo.

The two exchanged what looked to Sarutobi as amused glances, and the blond continued. "We are simple tourists, _young sir._" There was a challenge in his cold grey eyes as he said it, and perhaps a spark of mirth. The dark-haired boy still held the same non-expression, though he imagined it was not as cold as it had been. Sarutobi almost smiled. He hadn't had banter like this since Jiraiya last dropped by, and since he didn't feel any hostility from the two, he just nodded.

"And how are you finding the bazaar?" The dark-haired one cocked his head a little, as if listening to something, before turning his gaze up to the two arriving ANBU's and tensing his entire body. Sarutobi didn't know how the two could have felt them so quickly -almost as fast as Sarutobi himself- because one of the bodyguards was a Captain, and one of the top twenty shinobi Konoha had to offer. He wasn't sure if he should be happy or _worried_ that they were that good.

After the momentary lull in conversation, the blond once again picked up the thread. "Very nicely done. The atmosphere… the chance to meet_ new people_…" He trailed off after the veiled jab at the newcomers, and arched an eyebrow at Sarutobi. Sarutobi again smiled in answer, hoping that the two wouldn't be too suspicious of the ANBU's presence. _'Though if they are as good as they seem, they will naturally be suspicious. The best fighters always are, even if these two seem so young.' _Sarutobi hoped they wouldn't be too suspicious to accompany him for a while, though.

As if reading his mind, the blond spoke again. "Would you perhaps like some company this afternoon?" This time the pale lips were definitely twitching, and he saw the raven cover his mouth with a finely-boned hand to conceal a small grin. They appeared to have relaxed a little, which relieved Sarutobi immensely. If he had come on to strongly about accompanying the duo, he would probably have lost them before he could even begin to try and convince them to go with him to Konoha. Which he still didn't know why he was doing… and he had a suspicion that claiming that "the voices told me", probably wouldn't go over well.

He thought he saw the raven shoot him a wary glance from behind black bangs, before he turned to walk towards the main market with the blond chuckling quietly ahead of him. Sarutobi signaled to the ANBU to keep their distance before following.

* * *

**A/N:** I have caught two colds in under a month. I didn't think that was possible *sneezes*

I needed to cut the chapter off here, because the next part will switch POV's, and I couldn't break it off farther along.

Most people seem to want yaoi. Shocking.

I am unsure as to whether I'll have both H and D be gay- it seems kind of odd, honestly. Which one would you prefer be gay, should the choice be between the two? Who would you prefer him with?

I am relatively sure that Kakashi will not be one side of the pairing. I am considering Itachi, however.

A few other suggestions are: Tenzou, Raidou, Genma or Ibiki. You're welcome to make your own suggestions too, of course.

Most people seemed to want smaller flashbacks that won't interfere with the story too much. I'll see what I can do.

Can you figure out why H and D felt like chakra-voids?

**Please review if you want me to continue! *bows***


	4. Dangers & deals

**Chapter 4**

**Dangers & deals**

Harry shot a wary glance at the thirty-something man that wasn't really thirty-something when he picked up something about "voices", and then turned to walk into the main market plaza with a chuckling Draco in tow. He heard an echo of Draco's laughter through the mind link, and put up his shields just enough to mute it. There was no point having the snarky snake in his head when he needed to focus.

As the trio and the two masked followers made their way through the bustling streets (or empty roofs, as it were), Harry reflected that their first view of the shinobi world had been a rather pleasant one. He doubted it would remain so for long, but as nobody was currently trying to kill, maim or capture them he felt that he should enjoy himself a little. Both he and Draco had been very tense going in through the main gates to Numachi, made even more so by the bustling crowds that filled the town's streets. Their heightened senses sent a plethora of smells and sound directly into their brains for processing, something they hadn't needed to worry about when in the forest or the empty streets of London. The heartbeats of the humans were also quite distracting.

People that Harry presumed were shinobi were jumping up and down the roofs and walking along walls as if gravity was optional, which led to both Harry and Draco tensing even more- because these people were dangerous. They couldn't be sure exactly how much of a threat the shinobi were, or if they could even hurt them, but they would never take any chances. The way the shinobi moved spoke of great battle-experience, of the likes that neither of the two had had when they were human- even after the war. Though with what Grimpull's scrolls had said about Taijutsu, it probably shouldn't have surprised them.

The duo walked as casually as they could while allowing their eyes and ears to prowl the streets for potential threats before them, trying not to snap at the ninja that suddenly disappeared in a poof of smoke, or launched themselves out a window. They were tense and battle-ready and Harry almost imagined he could feel the more animal-like side of him bare its fangs. He tried keeping as far away from the humans as he could, afraid that should they make a sudden movement near him or Draco, he might take shot at them.

Harry had almost attacked the first salesman that grabbed his arm, but luckily Draco had –in his typical Prince of Slytherin way- sneered something about plebeians and uncouth manners at the man, while practically hammering on Harry's shields to let him in. Their guiding family had looked torn between horror and bemused agreement, and Harry probably wouldn't have cared too much about their opinions, but the true fear in the youngest daughter was what snapped Harry out of it. He wasn't that cold yet… or that careless.

Draco had made his way in and started muttering about impulsive Gryffindors and needing to _assess the situation first, for Merlin's sake._Harry had sent a vague sense of gratefulness and irritation towards Draco's mind and had then promptly pushed him out. Draco smirked arrogantly in reply and motioned high-handedly for Giza to continue forwards. Giza had shot him a glare, but faltered after a second under the Slytherin's cold gaze.

Harry almost remarked on Draco's behavior, but decided that he was still grateful to the other for not allowing him to bite the salesman's head off –literally- so he had kept his comments to himself. He sent a little exasperation through their link, though. Draco had smirked even wider- probably showing a hint of fang- because Giza hurriedly pulled his wife along and they continued on their way.

Suddenly Harry had sensed a presence moving towards them. In the general hum of people moving around, he might not have been able to pinpoint the person, but this presence was so completely focused on Harry –or Draco?- that he had been able to pick up on it. And perhaps it was his Focus or perhaps he was just that much tenser than his friend, but he had immediately spotted the man stepping out of the shadows in an alley to their far left.

Draco picked up on his distress, but instead of looking in the direction of the possible threat he had tightly told Giza that they would continue on their own. His stilted fake politeness as he thanked them had immediately made them turn around and continue on their way, throwing no glances whatsoever over their shoulders. Draco's impeccable manners were always rather unnerving, especially when it sounded like he wanted to kill rather than thank them.

The youngest daughter had been hanging over her mother's shoulder, and had thusly been the only one to see the two half-crouch predatorily. Harry saw from the corner of his eye how she buried her head in her mother's shoulder, but didn't have time to agonize over how different they were becoming. They were half-crouching instead of taking up proud defensive postures, like animals instead of humans- instead of wizards. When the man merely stood and observed them, looking for all the world as if he was pondering over a puzzle during tea-time and not being stared down, Harry allowed himself to relax a little. Just enough so that he straightened up and could stare back while they waited for the man to snap out of whatever thoughts he had gotten lost in.

The conversation that came thereafter was strange, to say the least, and if he hadn't had the advantage of the natural vampire surface Legilimency he would have been even more suspicious than he already was. Especially since the man was somehow disguised- his body was covered with a layer of something, kind of like an illusion, and he could barely see the shape of an old man under the projected image of a thirty year old. When the two masked people arrived to apparently stand guard over the illusioned man, Harry had almost had a panic attack and would have probably done something impulsive, hadn't Draco reminded him that there _were no Death Eaters here_. They _weren't_ on a battlefield, they _weren't_ pursued by anyone, the war was _over. _Harry dutifully ignored the shivers in his friend's mental voice.

There was no hostility in their thoughts- though they were very wary and on their guard-, and as Draco and the man continued to talk he thought he heard a flash of '_Konoha_' and '_Hokage_' and when something about '_the best fighters'_ flashed through the man's mind accompanied with a sense of urgency he pushed a trickle of agreement to Draco. The blond seemed to have already made up his mind, because he immediately asked the man if he "would like some company this afternoon".

Draco watched Harry's back carefully as they made their way forward. He could hear the mutters about Clansmen and Uchihas in the raven's mind, and he felt the skeptical hope that flittered around Harry at the old man's thoughts about convincing them to go with him to Konoha- and he worried. Not that he would actually allow himself to admit to the feeling- he was still an Ice-prince, if a changed one- but his Gryffindor friend so badly wanted to meet his far removed family, and his hope was so very brittle… Should the Uchiha's not be what Harry was hoping for, Draco didn't know if his friend would be able to take it. Family had been almost synonymous to 'bad' in Harry's dictionary for so long that Draco was unsure of how to prepare his friend for possible disaster.

They ended up in a small café on the right side of the marketplace, at a table placed under a large parasol. The people rushing by spared them barely a glance, but Draco still incanted a silent Muffliato to ensure they wouldn't be overheard.

"So?" Draco rapped out, when the old man said nothing, but merely sat back to seemingly enjoy the sunlight. Harry's half-hearted chastisement went largely unnoticed, because his black-haired friend was projecting feelings of impatience and annoyance through the link.

"So." The old man repeated, looking like he was unsure of how to begin. "May I ask your names, and where you hail from?" he continued – rather bluntly, in Draco's opinion- after a moment. He seemed to be choosing his words with great care however, and his mental voice was pulsating with uncertainty and spinning with thoughts of '_whispers_' and '_bloodlines_' that didn't make sense to either of them.

Draco smirked coldly. He knew his expression looked stiff and unwelcoming, but it was best to keep this old man on his toes. It wouldn't do to lose their advantage, even if they actually wanted to go to Konoha. If the old man thought he had just barely convinced them to come with him, he would be cautious but unsuspecting in his dealings with both of them. Also, it would give them leverage.

"I am Draco, and my companion's name is Harry." He tilted his head towards Harry, while giving him a mental push. They needed to project the same kind of image to this man, and it wouldn't do if Harry acted shy or unsure of himself. Perceived weaknesses like that could be exploited.

"How do you do." Harry's voice was flat and quiet, but steady and with a hard edge to it. Perfect. Draco smirked again, this time inwardly, and felt his friend roll his eyes in response. "Who's company do we have the pleasure of sharing?" Draco picked up, and his stilted enquiry was met with a polite nod.

"I am Sarutobi Hiruzen" He watched them carefully as he gave out his name, but neither of the two reacted. Again, the word-title- _Hokage _flitted through the disguised man's mind, and Draco wondered if they should have pretended to react. If this man was the Hokage... But then, keeping him in confusion could only be to their advantage.

Draco arched an eyebrow in the universal why-should-I-give-a-damn expression, and almost jerked when Harry mentally punched his mind, growling about _snooty Slytherin's_ and how _they were going to alienate him, damn it_. Draco sighed. Gryffindors never could appreciate the political games. They wanted hints as blunt as sledgehammers, which to Draco seemed like the height of stupidity, but since his friend was so worried he would oblidge anyway…

* * *

"A pleasure, I'm sure." The blond murmured after a moment. Neither of the odd duo had reacted at all to his name, which truly unsettled Sarutobi. It couldn't be that they didn't know who he was, and he was sure they had seen through his _henge_… Where they enemies? Spies, perhaps? But if that was the case, the Dairokkan wouldn't have been so insistent that he bring them to Konoha. He settled his face into pleasant lines, showing none of his confusion.

"We have come from very far away-" here the blonde's facial expression shifted slightly, but towards what, Sarutobi couldn't tell "–but I'm afraid we currently have no place to call home." The blonde's amusement by the end of the sentence was obvious, and Sarutobi felt his lips twitch. He had been given a very obvious opening.

"Is that so? I'm sorry to hear that. What kind of residence might you be looking for, then?" He could have invited them straight away of course, but should he appear so eager, it might instead scare them away. They did seem to know that he wanted them to come with and not too opposed to the idea, though they were hardly welcoming either. How they knew, Sarutobi had no clue, but he would have time to contemplate that later and therefore shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

"We are unsure, as of now. I do believe that a place in touch with nature might be what we are looking for." The blond smirked and the black-haired one threw him an exasperated glance. He too, appeared to be amused.

"_In touch with nature, eh?"_Sarutobi chuckled inwardly. As far as hints go, that one was very obvious, though he was sure the blond young man had meant it to be that way. It was almost unnerving how quickly the two seemed to have caught on.

"Do you perhaps have something to offer us?" The dark-haired man broke in, tilting his head in the blonde's direction, as if listening to something. The blonde in turn shot him a glance filled with- something. Apprehension, Sarutobi thought. Was he afraid that the raven would speak of things he wanted to keep secret?

"That may be, should you give me a reason to offer it." Sarutobi raised his eyebrows. It was a gamble- if they were Clansmen (which, considering Dreiko's educated way of speaking, rang true)- they may view it as an insult.

A long moment went by, echoing in its silence, and Sarutobi had to resist squirming in discomfort (that simply would not do for a man of his stature). The duo's faces turned slightly to each other, their flickering gazes crossing but not focusing on anything in particular.

Harii sighed in what looked like defeat and waved his hands in a shooing motion. The blonde nodded solemnly and turned smoldering gray eyes to Sarutobi. Then he asked a question that would be on Sarutobi's mind for a long time, despite the remark's seeming irrelevance to their motivation for wanting to journey to Konoha.

"What do you know of the Uchihas?"

_Dark hair- Fugaku, sneering arrogantly- whisperings of discontent in the police force- Madara's whirling red Sharingan as he confronted Sarutobi's teacher- pride and pride and pride as little Itachi, Itachi-the-genius, made Genin and the dark eyes turning bloody red- the Uchiha elders, backed by Fugaku, demanding 13 year old Kakashi's execution-_

"Why do you ask?" Sarutobi inquired calmly, despite the raging thoughts and memories. It took a second for him to notice the raven's bent head, and the blonde's glare. Something was nagging him, a realization- why were they reacting- he hadn't said anything, so why-?

Before he could grasp the thought Harii interrupted, sounding both hurried and strained. "We had a run-in with an Uchiha a while back, and he told us a little about your Village. It made us curious." Though the sentence sounded false, but it's not impossible for them to have met Uchiha's if they had been to the bazaar before. He could have called them on it anyway, but with the Dairokkan so insistent that they come with him to Konoha he can't risk them feeling threatened. When he has gotten to know them better, perhaps… Though the stalling has gone on for long enough- they had already indirectly admitted to knowing who he is, so he might as well get it over and done with. He's making too many concessions as it is...

"I see. Konoha is indeed my Village." Sarutobi hesitated and then went for the jugular. "Should I offer you residence there, what would you do for my Village in return?" "_And that is what it is all about, is it not?"_ he asked the silent whispers. The world wassn't peaceful enough for one-sided deals.

The raven's eyes wandered in the direction of the hidden ANBU. "We don't want to be seen or known commonly- give us a trial assignment to complete and then place us." He spoke quietly, sounding exhausted, and Dreiko's brows furrowed even as he nodded his agreement. "_So they are shinobi then."_

"Not many occupations are truly hidden- will you be a squad by yourselves?" The blonde's eyes fluttered back and forth and he drawled slowly, "We prefer it so."

It could have sounded arrogant, but something in that statement seemed so weary and at loss that it took Sarutobi a moment to answer. "Let's return to Konoha. We shall discuss more there." He concluded at length and signaled the ANBU to scout the way ahead. The strange duo stood up as one in a flowing motion, and Sarutobi felt chills run along his spine. The way their movements seemed to flow in resonance to each other with such seeming uncoordinated ease put him on edge.

---

The ride to their transport to Konoha was a quiet one. Sarutobi supposed they could have run but he felt that he needed time to try and sort out his thoughts. So on Sarutobi's suggestion they took a carriage from the border and travelled the days and nights in silence, interrupted only by inane pleasantries every now and then.

Sarutobi observed the duo as discreetly as he could; noticing odd habits- whenever the carriage rested for the night one of the duo disappeared for an hour or two into the surrounding forests. He supposed he could have asked them what they were up to- if only to reassure his nervously twitching bodyguards- but something in their eyes upon their return stopped him every time. Those normally so shuttered eyes betrayed a hint of wildness and perhaps, satisfaction that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

He could have inquired about their sleeping habits, which throughout the trip were very erratic and seemed almost- forced at times. Nightmares and insomnia he could understand, because it was common in the shinobi ranks (how could it not be, with the work they did?), but that wasn't it. When they did sleep, it was never with their faces turned toward Sarutobi. It made him uneasy, because what shinobi slept with his back turned on a stranger?

Their movements were fluid with the grace of shinobi at their deadliest, but with some unnaturally glaringly open flaws… It made no sense. And yet- _and yet_- Sarutobi felt that should he have attempted to attack either of the two in their supposedly unguarded sleep they would have reacted as quickly as his ANBU did. He supposed he'd just have to wait until their trial mission was complete to see if the apparent flaws would compromise whatever mission he could give them. _"It cannot be one of too much importance to the Village, should they fail, but neither should it be one that will not test their abilities appropriately." _Sarutobi mused and plotted as the walls of Konoha rose on the horizon.

* * *

**A/N:**Guys, I don't have nearly enough votes for the yaoi question of the last chapter- and since not even a _fifth_of you who have this story on Alert have reviewed I'm feeling rather disappointed and unsure. Do the rest of you not want yaoi? Or maybe you simply don't care?

Everyone who reviewed- thank you. If not for you, this chapter would have taken even longer to write than it did *bows*

Everyone else, _please_ review.


	5. First view

**Chapter 5**

**First view**

The wall of Konoha stood tall in the near distance and Draco almost let out a very unSlytherin sigh of relief. They had travelled for days, crossing both the Land of Wind and Land of River countries to finally end up at the Land of Fire's border. Their journey had taken them in an arch, because apparently travelling through the Land of Rain was out of the question. Sarutobi had explained that Rain was almost always turned into a battlefield in the crossfire whenever war broke out because it shared boarders with so many different Lands, so when the Shinobi War ended they adopted a very strict boarder control. Getting through would take several days and an obscene amount of paperwork.

Harry had been depressed and twitchy since they had seen Sarutobi's memories of the Uchiha, and Draco had been walking a knife's edge trying to convince his friend that not all hope was lost, because surely not all Uchihas would be acting like the pure-blooded bigots from back home. He couldn't lay it on too thick, though, because giving false hope wasn't in his nature. Harry had smiled briefly at Draco's ironic turn of phrase and nodded demurely. Draco had a feeling it was only because Harry wanted to be left alone at the moment that he agreed.

He brushed Harry's mind with his own as the oversized gates drew nearer and felt his friend's grim acceptance over the link. Whatever may come, Draco would be there for him. Shaking of the sappy, sentimental thoughts that didn't belong in an Ice Prince's head, they jumped off the carriage. Harry's gaze was too fixated on the doors to care about anything else at the moment, so Draco pulled an unmarked gold coin from one of the many necklaces that covered his chest and wordlessly gave it to the coachman.

Ignoring the Hokage's startled gaze, and the widening of the coachman's eyes, he walked to stand next to Harry. As Sarutobi and the coachman said their good-bye's and the ANBU bodyguards moved ahead- presumably to request the opening of the gate- Draco asked lowly,

"Will you be alright?" Normally he wouldn't have spoken out loud, or even asked it in words in the first place, but they were moving into potential enemy territory. Going in distracted wasn't an option when they had so little information about the people of the Village. Their Hokage had acted amicably, yes, but shinobi were militia and that meant danger to the both of them. They couldn't let their guards down even if the shinobi were humans- perhaps, just _because_ the shinobi were human- humans with dangerous abilities and finely-honed combat skills.

"Yes. Remember what we read about the Hyuuga?" Harry's speech was clipped as he answered in the affirmative, but Draco said nothing when the raven changed the subject. At least his friend's thoughts had calmed, and pushing him now might cause him to blow up.

"All-seeing eyes. I remember." Draco answered and furrowed his brow. That could be a very large problem indeed. His Gryffindor friend might not be as distracted as Draco feared if he was making such astute observations. _"But then, Harry was never a true Lion…" _a snide voice in his head (for once not the Lion in question) pointed out. Draco shoved the thought away, mentally berating himself for getting so easily distracted when that was the reason he'd been worr- er, annoyed with his friend in the first place.

"We can't point it out to Sarutobi because we're not supposed to know about that ability, but we can't risk a Hyuuga seeing … or rather, _not_ seeing us…" Draco continued and Harry nodded worriedly in agreement. Draco exhaled slowly and admitted "I don't know what to do, but unless there is a fight they don't have those- _Byakugan_ activated, do they? It goes against the grain to believe that 'everything will work out if you have _faith_', but we don't have a choice in this case." Draco spat out the word "faith" like the foulest curse, but paused at Harry's glance.

He continued with a smirk in his voice "Besides, I thought Gryffindors lived on faith?" Harry started, and then let out a low, incredulous laugh. "That, and butterbeer," he chuckled. Draco shielded his relief at Harry's laughter and continued to smirk widely.

They stood in companionable silence- not completely free of worry, but not as tense as before- and both turned when they felt Sarutobi begin moving towards them. The Hokage had a peculiar expression on his face, but wiped it off under their questioning stares.

"Are you ready to go?" he questioned quietly when he reached them. Harry couldn't say he was too surprised that the old man had noticed their somewhat tense silence; Sarutobi moved with grace on par with, if not more so, the shinobi they had seen at the bazaar. It was clear why this man lead a Village. The intelligence in his eyes and the power in his gait spoke of many battles won, and a life of hard decisions and personal sacrifices.

They nodded in answer and watched as the Hokage- with an amused glance towards the both of them- dropped whatever glamour he had been under and his real self blinked into existence without interfering layers. He was truly very old, at least from what one would expect of a ninja- but, as Harry pointed out to Draco; _He had nothing on McGonagall and Dumbledore_. Dumbledore had lived to see their beloved school's near destruction, and had with his last breath enforced its wards. His sacrifice had made the wards even stronger, though it wasn't something either of them liked to acknowledge, for different reasons.

Sarutobi strode ahead of them as the gate opened and the Immortal duo got their first glimpse of Konoha. And what a sight it was.

Along both sides of what looked like the main street were 2- 3 floored houses, some bearing shop signs and displaying goods, others housing people. Most houses also bore marks of battle, with chunks gone or burn marks blackening the house walls surfaces, and Harry noted ruins to the far left side. The damage to the houses didn't look newly inflicted, but had not been taken care of. The activity in the Village didn't look the slightest bit diminished either. Very strange.

Farther along what seemed to be the main street a market was in full swing with civilians buying fruit and vegetables off the stands. The smell of fried meat and fish drafted along the winds and mixed with the sweet fragrance of flowers from a flower-shop on the left side. And above the cacophony of sounds and across the buildings shinobi jumped to and fro, disappearing in poof's and appearing in swirls of leaves.

It was a terrible assault on their senses, especially when it mixed with the scent of blood that clung to the clothes of most of the constantly moving shinobi. Thousands of beating human hearts surrounded by veins and arteries were hard to block out when they had been living so desolately after their transformation. Even the bazaar had not been so occupied with people- especially not people bearing blood-stained clothing.

Harry felt his eyes widen slightly in nervousness- this was not how he had imagined a Village of silent assassins. He could feel echoes of his astonished uncertainty in Draco through their link, and the duo walked in tight silence towards the shinobi gate guards. They stopped right in front of the guards, and Harry tried to ignore the small speck of blood on the shinobi guard' high green collar and could feel Draco trying to do the same. They hadn't fed today, technically, which was in hindsight clearly a mistake.

Draco sent a vague quivering agreement along the link. Harry felt his friend trying to control the blood-lust and waited until the blond Ancient composed himself. Harry had fed last and couldn't view his friend's struggle as weakness- shamed gratefulness slipped into his mind at this thought- but kept close to him in case he should …need it.

While this one part of his vampiric mind was solely focused on Draco, another was listening intently to Sarutobi and the gate guards' discussion.

"Hokage-sama! We didn't know you were coming back so soon! Is everything alright, sir?" The older of the two guard's tone was concerned and respectful, with no hint fear or even apprehension. It looked like Sarutobi truly was a good Hokage, which was a tremendous relief. Harry didn't know what they would have done if Sarutobi's manners and the stray thoughts they had picked up hadn't been a reflection of him as a ruler.

"Yes, yes. I met some acquaintances of mine at the bazaar and we decided to return together is all." The old Hokage's voice was warm and perfectly steady with no hesitation. The two guards, who had been ignoring their presence in favor of their leader, turned to observe them curiously.

The younger guard- a brown-haired man in his twenties with a scar running along the right side of his face- put up a hand respectfully in greeting, though the duo could see the hastily hidden surprise- presumably at their unusual appearance and attire. Not that the people in the Village weren't dressed oddly- he was _sure_ he had seen someone dressed in _green spandex_ rush past on a nearby roof.

Draco shuddered at the mental image Harry projected and Harry mentally chuckled lightly in turn. His blond friend could still be a clothing snob occasionally, though this time Harry was forced to agree with the unvoiced opinion. _Spandex_, for Merlin's sake.

The older guard was in his early forties with an irregular heartbeat and a web of scars crossing his fingers and arms. His gray-sprinkled hair waved as he nodded curtly before turning back to Sarutobi. The duo nodded to them both, and waited as the Hokage and the guards wrapped up their conversation with a few pleasantries.

Draco had sufficiently composed himself and when they turned to walk up the stairs to a giant tower that overlooked the whole bustling city, they both caught view of the gigantic stone heads that made up the whole mountainside at the far end of the Village. Draco whistled low, and heard Harry mumble something about them needing to "rush more". He turned to stare at his ink-haired friend who only shook his head in amusement at Draco's confusion. The blond considered asking, but with the way Harry was chuckling, it was bound to be something completely unrelated to the view they were currently admiring.

Both of them recognized the third of the four heads depicted on the mountain as the old man walking ahead of them, though he was younger on the mountainside than in real life. For such a huge monument, though, it seemed surprisingly accurately sculptured. _Perhaps they used some shinobi technique? _Harry mused over the mind link. Draco sent a mental nod, agreeing. He doubted there were muggle techniques that produce something so life-like in that scale. He felt Harry's annoyance at his stray thoughts, but refused to acknowledge them. He had nothing against muggles anymore, truly, but his childhood upbringing couldn't be washed away with a snap of one's fingers.

Over the door leading into the tower the kanji for fire was painted in ink inside a large red circle. It took Draco a moment to connect the symbol as the Land of Fire's mark. It was a rather simple symbol for a concept as powerful as the Will of Fire that had been described in Grimpull's scroll for what felt like an eternity ago. "_Has it only been a month and a half since we sat in the Head Goblin's office debating Inheritance?"_

Draco shook his head a little, trying to clear it and push away the unnecessary thoughts. Things were changing so fast. Donning his Slytherin mask, he resolutely pushed everything to the side and followed his friend and Sarutobi inside. Getting sentimental and uncertain now was just asking to be manipulated.

They walked the long corridor leading up to a secretary in silence. The secretary briefly looked over the two of them- eyes widening and cheeks pinking as she did- and then turned to politely inquire about the Hokage's health, and if he wanted her to get anything for him.

"Please rearrange whatever meetings I may have planned today. Unexpected visitors have arrived, and I would like to take my time with them both today." Sarutobi answered pleasantly and turned to wave the duo inside the doors to their right. The secretary nodded and smilingly bade them all a good day as the doors clicked shut behind the trio.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for all your reviews this previous chapter- it motivated me into finishing this quickly. Keep it up, please- you're making me a very happy… err… authoress?

About ¾ of you have stated that you want yaoi, with Harry as one side of the pairing. Most didn't write down whom they would prefer to pair him with however, though I've had several requests for both Itachi and Ibiki. I am personally also considering Hayate.

If you have any preference, please state them now- whoever doesn't end up in the pairing will still be featured in the story, but I need to plan things ahead, even if the yaoi isn't going to show up for awhile yet.

I don't feel I proofread this chapter enough times, so if you see any errors (grammatical or otherwise), do be kind and point it out to me.

Next chapter there shall be conversations. Sarutobi has many questions, don't you know. And our vampiric duo is very intent on avoiding them- or at least lie their ears off.


	6. Conversations

**Chapter 6**

**Conversations**

The door clicked shut. In the rather spacious circular office the sound was magnified and Draco thought there was a certain feeling of doom at its closing. This was it; now the true challenge begun. They were in unfamiliar territory surrounded by blood-smelling shinobi with Merlin-knows what kind of abilities. But setting the stage in one's favor was something Draco had learnt how to do long ago, and he fully intended to use all knowledge of political avoidance and half-truths today.

Sarutobi moved to sit behind the desk, and the duo walked forward to stand beside their chairs and waited to sit down until the old Hokage had sat down. It was a calculated courtesy on Draco's part; despite what Gryffindors may think of pretended politeness, in times like these they could be the key to slanting someone's opinion in your favor. He knew Harry could see the importance as well, though the raven's Gryffindor side might roar at him a little internally.

"So here we are, Harii, Dreiko. Tell me, from what little you have seen of my Village, what is your opinion?" The question was rather abrupt, and Draco didn't know why it felt like a test when it was only natural that Sarutobi would ask, but he still chose his words with great care.

"It seems lovely. More peaceful than I would have expected from a shinobi Village." Draco allowed some warmth and a little wistfulness color his voice- making no mention of the damage they had seen when they arrived-, and then watched in nervousness as the Hokage's eyes narrowed.

"You did not reside in a Hidden Village before, then?" _Bloody hell._ They were supposed to be shinobi, of course Sarutobi would have expected them to have a past in a shinobi Village! Draco nearly cursed out loud, but years in Slytherin and in the war had tempered his reactions.

"Our home town was destroyed, and ever since we have been moving around incessantly. Before then, the people in our town taught us what we needed to know- more out of necessity than choice, though." A little real pain had slipped out when Draco mentioned the destruction of their home, but seeing Sarutobi's eyes soften turned Draco's embarrassment at showing weakness into acceptance. Whatever worked to their advantage was acceptable. He ignored the slight feelings of unease at his callous disregard for their memories emanating from Harry.

"I see. War does affect us all, terribly." _War? How did he-?_ Draco hadn't mentioned anything about war. But then, maybe that was what the damage on the houses had come from? If so, it made sense that so much remained unrepaired- economics after wars were never good, after all. And Sarutobi apparently thought they had been orphaned in the same war that had caused his Village so much destruction?

Should he agree with the Hokage's assessment and let him believe that, or should he instead correct him and tell him –some version of- the truth? What would work out best for them?

Draco settled on grimacing enigmatically. An ambivalent answer if there ever was one- and though Sarutobi's gaze sharpened, he dropped the subject quietly. Draco sensed that this wasn't the last they'd hear of this though, but next time they'd have a more prepared story to give him.

"Are you both planning on taking up permanent residence in Konoha?" Sarutobi asked after a moment's silence. He was stroking his beard with a wrinkled hand, and his eyes were calculating.

Draco wasn't thrown off by the apparent non-sequitur and answered calmly, "With your permission." He bowed his head slightly in respect and looked the Hokage in the eyes. Their short staring match ended when Sarutobi gave a slow nod in acceptance. Whatever he had been looking for in Draco's eyes, apparently he had found satisfactory.

The Hokage began digging through a drawer to his left and handed them two sheets of official looking papers. Harry and Draco took them gingerly and with a quick once over they both made sure it was what it looked like, with no hidden messages or promises. Sarutobi gave them both pencils and while Draco found it a little odd not to write with a quill, he found it rather comfortable.

They both quickly started filling in the forms, but had to stop writing every now and then to have a mental discussion and make sure their answers were the same.

**New citizen residential forms: Konoha****gakure no Sato, Hi no Kuni**

**Please state full name and age: Malfoi, Harrii and Dreiko****. Thirteen and fourteen respectively.**

_What names are we using? Our real ones are too unusual, don't you think?_ Harry's mental voice asked. Draco sent a nod to the other and answered, _We can use my last name, as long as we spell it their way, it doesn't seem too bad… _Harry snorted, but gave his agreement anyway. He hadn't been very attached to the Potter name since the war began, because his last name was such a large part of his fame. It felt more like a trademark than a family name.

_And what about our ages? Since we won't grow older, we should probably downplay them, hmm?_ He mused in the blond's direction. He felt Draco nod. _Yes, I agree._

**Please state your occupation (if shinobi, please state your rank): Shinobi, Chuunin.**

_We can tell him out home collapsed before we had the chance to gain a higher rank; I really don't think we should rank ourselves higher than that. It seems rather disrespectful to those __who actually earned their ranks… _Harry muttered to his friend, receiving a mental roll of the eyes and exasperated agreement in return.

**Please state your previous place of residence: London. Has since been destroyed.**

They were both purposely curt in this response, because Draco seemed sure that Sarutobi would take their reluctance at writing any more as grief. Harry didn't disagree.

**Please state any family members****' out- or inside Konohagakure no Sato, alternatively state the clan you belong to: All deceased, Clan-less.**

**Please state any enemies that you believe would be able to cause harm to Konohagakure no Sato's inhabitants: All deceased.**

Draco smirked mentally. That statement sent more signals than any of the other's. He felt Harry sigh, but also his reluctant agreement.

**Please state any illnesses/disabilities you might need medical assistance or specialized treatment for: Classified.**

_I say we tell him about our need for blood__, _Harry's mental voice called out in response to Draco's confusion about the "Classified" remark. Before Draco's shock and incredulity managed to reach his raven-haired friend, Harry forced a dizzying flow of ideas and convictions on him- _The Hokage wants us here for some reason. We need blood. We pledged our loyalty to the Village, no matter that we can't tell him everything. We might be noticed should we sneak out to feed, which would lead to a lot of uncomfortable things, would it not?_ - the haphazardly presented words were accompanied by different scenarios and consequences, each one worse than the other.

Draco was, after staring blindly down at this paper for a moment, forced to agree- and once again reassess the Gryffindor's intelligence- because Harry was absolutely right. There was no way they'd be able to hunt or steal blood from the hospital for a longer period of time. Maybe they would go unnoticed for a few months – if the Hokage didn't have them watched or followed- but this was to be their permanent home, hopefully, so that particular secret would be out in no time. Probably in a very ugly way as well. If they had Sarutobi on their side on the other hand…

Harry watched Draco nod- though it was more of a very slight twitch of his neck- in his peripheral vision and felt a little smug. He knew his friend still underestimated him on occasion, though that was rarer nowadays than in the beginning of their friendship, and while it annoyed him, it was also rather funny to watch Draco try and come to terms with the fact that he wasn't the only one able to rationalize their needs and come up with solutions.

**Please state your monetary status: Large windfall wealth.**

Harry went over the list once more. It wasn't nearly as long as he had fear it would be- piles upon piles with paperwork about particulars and details repeated endlessly in different ways- but he suspected they weren't done here. He snuck a glance at the Hokage, who was looking out the window and seemingly ignoring them. These was no way he'd let them live here (creepy voices aside) without truly confirming that they wouldn't be a threat. And for that they would need to make a few concessions- give up some of their secrets.

They handed in the papers in that eerily tandem way they had developed after their transformation. Sarutobi skimmed both applications quickly, and then turned back to the both of them with raised eyebrows. Harry saw Draco take an unnecessary breath beside him, and conceded. Draco was more eloquent than he, so Harry would sit back and listen until Draco said something too Slytherin.

"Hokage-sama, we feel that should we with abandon describe ourselves- our strengths and weaknesses- on a piece of paper that could be stolen or viewed by unfriendly eyes, our positions would be too precarious for us to actually stay in this Village. Call us paranoid if you will, but we didn't survive this long by taking chances." Draco paused to let that sink in before continuing, "We are willing, however, to answer any questions you might have orally, provided that you do will not put it in writing."

Though his friend stretched the truth a bit, Harry agreed with Draco's statement. He didn't know if the shinobi had abilities that- like wizards- could untraceably copy notes, but they wouldn't risk it.

Sarutobi looked amused by the demand, and Harry caught a flash picturing of a rambunctious red-haired woman in the same office what looked like years prior to this day. The memory was shrouded in fond remembrance and sorrow.

"Very well, then." He tapped his fingertips quietly on the table and then proceeded to retrieve a pipe from a small box to his left. While stuffing it he began, "You are brothers? You have stated that you are not of a Clan, and your appearances are very dissimilar…" he trailed off and lit the pipe, taking a deep breath from the mouthpiece.

"I took on Draco's last name for convenience's sake, as my own felt more like a… relic of the past." Harry answered quickly, trying to sound casual. "I have been an orphan for a very long time, and Draco is my brother in everything but blood… so, it was easier this way," he shrugged. Sarutobi nodded slowly.

"And you are Chuunin?" though his voice was mild, his tone held an undercurrent. Beside Harry, Draco shook his head and sighed softly.

"Since the war came, we never had the time to take the Jounin exam," the slight regret in the blonde's voice was a masterpiece, Harry thought dryly. The blond Slytherin didn't overplay the emotion in his tone and the statement was half-true, which enabled real sincerity to bleed into his voice.

"And your hometown of-"the Hokage paused and searched the page before him with his finger "-_Lonudonu_?" he hesitated momentarily over the name, and in the next breath mangled it horribly. Harry felt some tension flee from his frame at the mispronunciation, and shared an amused internal smile with Draco. The amusement was brief, however, and Harry's face was somber when he replied.

"Destroyed." Sarutobi nodded, looking sympathetic and understanding. Neither of the duo completely trusted the expressions- taking things at face value was just stupid- but it was nice all the same.

After a moment, the Hokage cleared his throat and tapped the paper with a finger, looking like he was choosing his words with great care. Both Draco and Harry tensed with the knowledge that what Sarutobi would inevitably ask might get them thrown out or in the worst case scenario- attacked.

"About you medical files…." Sarutobi began, looking like he was bracing himself for something- Harry caught a flash of whispering voices crowding the Hokage's head, though he couldn't hear what they were saying- and finished, "Is there anything you would like to tell me_?" or will I have to drag it out of you?_ The old man's thoughts rang out.

"We require a constant supply of fresh blood." Harry said flatly, draining any and all emotion from his face and voice. The Hokage's gaze flickered and his brow furrowed, but he asked the obligatory question anyway.

"Why?" he sounded a touch worried and a little resigned, and Harry felt almost bad laying their unusual brand of problems on his old and tired shoulders when he was so clearly exhausted by whatever war had damaged his Village so. Still, he didn't feel like offering a full explanation without a little prompting- saying out loud what exactly their nature required of them wasn't easy, despite their acceptance.

Draco rolled his eyes internally at Harry's dilemma and offered, "Sustenance." _Make of that what you wish, Hokage-sama._

---

Sarutobi jerked, though his rigid self-control tempered his reaction a bit. _Sustenance? As in _food_? _

These two beautiful teenagers with too old eyes and weary faces… ate… drank… _blood_? Sarutobi's thoughts were whirling, trying to combine this new information with the insistent whispers. He had never heard of any human drinking blood, and there had never been any signs that these two did either? He would surely have noticed if they had, blood had such a distinct smell-

_He and the two teenagers were on the carriage on their way to Konoha- __Dreiko waving goodbye and disappearing into the forest, swallowed by darkness- the blond, returning, taking a seat beside the raven and meeting Sarutobi's gaze- the wildness and satisfaction and shimmering contentment swirling in the grey pools taking him by surprise- turning away, unable to hold on to the other's gaze-_

They were hunting? Feeding in the forest? The satisfied look in their eyes upon their returns was because they were full?

Sarutobi raised an unsteady hand to his hair, wondering dazedly if he should start pulling out kunais' or calling for the ANBU stationed just outside the door. Would it even help? No human would drink blood, which means that these two couldn't possibly be human…

"What _are_ you?" the jaded part of his mind noted cynically how out of breath he sounded, while the forefront of his mind thought of demons and fire and swishing tails…

"Vampires." Dreiko replied, the word unfamiliar to Sarutobi's ears. They were both watching him warily, their bodies coiled like springs, ready to snap at any moment- and that was what calmed him down, in the end. The obvious wariness and uncertainty in their expressions. No demon would be worried about a human's reaction; no demon would worry at all. If they had wanted to hurt him they had had ample time to do so on the way here, and if they wanted to hurt Konoha, they would not have agreed to go with him in the open…

His next question sounded more like one asked of a Hokage than frightened child. "What are Vampires?"

"Vampires, also known as the Living Dead, are humans turned into beings who subsist by feeding on the blood of the living. This enhances our strength and speed and healing… and significantly extend our life-spans." The duo threw glances at each other and something about the end of that statement rang false to Sarutobi, but he focused on the first part, deciding it more important at the moment.

"The blood of the living." It wasn't even a question; rather it was the kind of statement he would use when voicelessly prompting others to reveal things on their own. Voluntarily given information tended to be more truthful, and though he wasn't sure he could trust the… _Living Dead _as they so morbidly had called themselves, he didn't have too much of a choice. The whispers were still very insistent, and they had never led him astray before.

"Not much. Maybe a few cups a week." Dreiko shrugged as if it was no big deal, but Sarutobi could see how tense his shoulders were- shocks were great for honing focus- though he doubted anyone else would have been able to.

"If you- _hunted_, those times you disappeared into the forest, you had to have been…_drinking_ more than _a few cups_!" He snapped and choked back bile as he imagined either of the two ripping into the veins of some poor animal and letting the blood run down their throats like the finest sake.

"There can never be too much blood." Dreiko hissed sharply, mouth twisted in a wry grin. Harii threw him a sharp glance and Dreiko's caricature of a smile disappeared.

"What my friend means is that while you could probably survive a week on just water… wouldn't you much prefer to eat as well? A few cups will keep us going, but of course we want more than the bare minimum!" Harry was calmer and more logical than Dreiko had been, though there was an edge to his voice as well. He continued his explanation while Sarutobi stared at him wildly, trying and failing to come up with a way to convey how unnatural and _wrong_ this seemed to him.

Harry ignored his expression and proceeded; "You eat meat, do you not? How can you condemn us then, when we only drink the blood where you consume the flesh?"

And Sarutobi was shocked. The images his mind had conjured had not compared drinking the flowing red life essence to the often served delicious _yakiniku_ or _basashi_ he so enjoyed. It wasn't the same, was it? Everybody ate meat! Sarutobi shook his head internally and grasped his pipe tighter. He took a deep drag and stilled his stressed mind. '_I can think on this later, for now I need to find out more about what it means to be… what they are.'_

"What do you mean when you say 'Living Dead'?" He bypassed Harii's question completely, but the two didn't seem to mind. Perhaps they understood his need to take his time with what had been said. _'If they can even understand normal human thoughts, that is.'_

"We do not breathe. We do not sleep. We do not eat. None of our organs work." Harii said quietly, and Sarutobi's forcedly calm mind ground to a complete halt. _'What?_' Were they serious? Did this ink-haired teenager just inform him that he was he _sitting opposite virtual_ _corpses_? Such a thing couldn't be possible; there was no way, surely… And then he looked up at them, prepared to- deny or demand proof, rant and rave at the complete impossibility of functioning in a _dead body_…

They were still. Both their heads were tilted slightly to the left, and the absolute stillness of their bodies stood out starkly. Their chests weren't heaving, taking in air to their lungs. Their eyes weren't flickering, not turning away from his face for a moment. No fidgeting, no tapping on the floor with their feet or shifting in their chairs. They were frozen like statues, immobile and stone-cold- and Sarutobi looked- his analytical, academically inclined mind shouting improbabilities and logical answers- and gave up his arguments; temporarily trusting in the Dairokkan and the advice it gave him.

Feeling like the world was slipping under his feet, he nodded. "All right. As long as you-" _don't drink my people, my children, my Villagers, my comrades in arms and the defenseless civilians…_ It was left unsaid, but as the two nodded –in sadness? In satisfaction or joy?- he thought they had probably heard him anyway.

* * *

**A/N: **Let's see…

I have no idea what kind of paperwork is the norm when taking up residence in a foreign country, even less what would be routine in a Village.

_Yakiniku_ means "grilled meat dishes" and _basashi_ is a horse meat delicacy.

"…subsist by feeding on the blood of the living" was partially taken from Wikipedia.

How did I do with presenting Sarutobi's reactions to the revelation? Was it to lame?

If I made any errors, feel free to point them out- I'd appreciate it a lot.

Special thanks to **Barranca **for giving me good advice and my outmost gratefulness to **Mistress Nika **for helping out with …err… a bit of everything? (Check out Mistress Nika's epic HP fic "Curse of Fate" if you haven't already!)

Next chapter our duo will be moving in to an apartment, and perhaps meet some neighbors *smirk*

_**Please**_** review if you liked the chapter!**


	7. If power corrupts

**Chapter 7**

**If power corrupts**

After the big revelation, the meeting had been wrapped up quickly. Sarutobi had explained the way to their new apartment and asked them to return to the Hokage Tower at 0800 hours the next morning, then dismissed them. Harry wasn't sure if the Hokage had forgotten that they had no need for sleep, or if it was just more convenient for him to reschedule. _He probably just needed time to assimilate the information. _Draco responded dryly, _We dropped quite the bomb on him, as the muggle saying goes. Still, I thought he handled it rather well- those whispers that hovered about his thoughts were rather helpful too. I wonder what they are?_

_It's obvious he's not crazy, and I can tell it isn't the Voices of the Dead. Perhaps __they are spirit guardians of some kind? He trusts them quite a bit, so they must have helped him out before. Anyway, I agree. It went rather well- let's hope our luck lasts and he doesn't freak out tomorrow, when he's had time to truly consider the implications._

_I wonder if we should have demanded an Oath or an Unbreakable Vow of him, before we left. I think living with you has made me more reckless._ Draco's disgruntled voice made Harry smile. He still had so much pride in his House, and it showed.

_I'm sure it'll work out. If he seems adverse to the truth tomorrow, we'll take care of it then._ Harry said soothingly, though inwardly he was a bit worried as well. People were unpredictable, and opinions could change in a heartbeat. Putting their hopes on unknown voices was rather incautious, though in this case they really didn't have much choice. They needed Sarutobi… no, _Hokage-sama_, on their side.

_Living on faith again? _Draco's voice sniped in annoyance. Harry was about to snipe back, but he resisted the impulse when he saw that they had reached their destination according to the Hokage's description; "A tall gray building, three houses right of the flower shop, with the ANBU mark in chakra scripture on the side of the door." This seemed to be it, and the piece of paper –carrying a strange looking symbol that was similar to runic script in appearance- Draco was holding had lit up when they reached it, like the Hokage's said it would.

The building itself was unremarkable; smallish red-rimmed windows and balconies of ribbed sheet metal sticking out in even intervals made up the front in their view. No other buildings had been risen directly around it, the way most houses seemed to be built in the Village; the nearest other dwelling was a hundred meters away.

Sarutobi had mentioned that since the apartment building was inhabited almost exclusively by ANBU, it was better for it to stand isolated. Apparently ANBU tended to react unfavorably to loud noises and the usual bustling that was that often occurred in most of the civilian residences. Both Harry and Draco could sympathize with that, and had felt rather thankful of it, since their own cautiousness –paranoia- tended to act up during such instances as well.

As they approached the heavy-looking double-doors, Draco noticed the almost complete lack of heart-beats inside and gave a mental sigh of relief. They still hadn't fed, and though they had told Sarutobi of their needs it wasn't like they could demand blood yet. Throwing their 'condition' in his face before he had properly digested- and hopefully accepted- the situation could back-fire spectacularly. They did have some Wizard-made blood substitute, but as Harry had commented when he and Harry had first purchased them, they tasted worse than rock-cakes. The Wizarding world didn't care much about catering non-humans.

They turned up the stairs, not moving as quickly as they could have, immersed as they were in their thoughts. The Hokage had given them apartment 34B on the fourth floor, informing them that it was at the very end of the corridor on that floor and that both the apartments closest to them were uninhibited. Both of them had bowed in gratefulness at that, to which the Hokage had nodded tightly. Draco wondered if their placement was more due to Sarutobi worrying over their eating habits- which was more than likely- than thoughtfulness. Not that it even really mattered.

The fourth floor was identical to the other floors- excepting the shift in color scheme on every level- with the walls painted a dark gray, and two corridors leading in opposite directions. Draco observed the small white plate at the top of the doorframes and turned to the left one, over which _30B-34B_ was written in bold letters.

Harry glided along behind him, observing the identical doors with impatience. When the duo came to the end of the corridor, standing in front of _their_ door, they stopped for a moment. This apartment was to be their home, and considering their life spans- or death-spans, as it were- probably for quite some time. It was a bit unsettling, really.

Obviously they could transfigure the furniture and they both knew the runic circles required for permanent Wizardspace, but the fact that this location- this building, behind this door, with view over this town- was to be their _home_, something neither of them had truly ever had, was almost frightening in its seeming impossibility.

They shared an uneasy glance, but Draco relaxed as the same bravado that in the past had so annoyed him glinted in his friend's eyes. This apartment was just another change in an ever-changing chain of events, that was it.

He took the small silver key Sarutobi had given him out of his trouser-pocket, grasping it steadily between his thumb and forefinger. They were supposed to have their doors keyed to their chakra signatures as well, but as the Hokage had bemusedly pointed out, they had none (It was probably a hint to explain more, but neither of them had felt up to it then). Harry had assured him that it was fine, and that they would set up their own defenses- to which Sarutobi had frowned uneasily.

_What did he think we would do?_ Harry wondered as they both stood staring at the key. _Set up some kind of suck-and-kill trap?_

Draco snorted. _Suck-and-kill?_ _Your eloquence and inspired creativity astounds me,_ he taunted amusedly.

Harry growled low in annoyance, snatch the key from Draco and pushed him to the side. He put the key to the lock in doorknob ('_a distinctly muggle contraption!'_ Draco mumbled mentally) and gave it a twist. The door swung inwards with a 'click' and they both stepped over the threshold with some hesitation.

The hallway was narrow and dimly lit and while both of their eyes could see clearly, they could still tell that it was very dimly lit. To the left was what looked like a closet door and as they moved forward on silent feet over the wood floor, Draco saw two more doors along the same wall- sliding doors, with narrow frames and paper covering- leading to what were probably bedrooms. Draco walked up to one of the doors and carefully slid it aside to examine the room.

Harry had moved farther in, going into a room only separated from the hallway-slash-corridor by half a wall. Rounding the wall he saw a small kitchen area with a stove, a refrigerator/ freezer and a kotatsu table with two pillows. The dark linoleum at his feet contrasted starkly with the stark whiteness of the kitchen appliances.

Harry observed the dust dancing in the soft sunlight that streamed through the window beside the kotatsu and held out one of his arms. '_It's almost as white as the stove'_ he thought bleakly. The difference in 'pale but normal human skin' and 'pale vampire skin' was very obvious to Harry's eyes. The translucence of human skin that made the veins visible was absent in his and Draco's skin, making their bodies look more like finely polished stone than flesh.

"Harry? What are doing?" Draco's voice startled him and he whirled around instantly, guard raised and fists poised, before he caught himself. Draco merely raised an eyebrow, though Harry could see some worry in his friend's grey eyes. It was quite unlike him to forget himself so completely.

"Just musing on differences…" Harry offered vaguely. He was starting to feel like some old man, remembering 'the good ol' days'!

Shaking his head at Draco's probing look he asked mentally, _Did you explore the rest of the apartment then?_

Draco nodded, dropping the subject at Harry's unspoken request. He flashed a picture of the closet in the hallway- _several shelves, with the topmost one hidden behind thin sliding wood doors and the second covered in differently sized racks _- _maybe for equipment_? Draco stopped to comment and then proceeded, -_two sliding doors, opening to reveal sunbeams on tatami mats and two futons rolled out in one of the corners. Between the two rooms was a bigger sliding door, already opened. The annexing room holding two empty bookcases and another, bigger kotatsu also bathed in sunlight-_

_An office and a bedroom?_ Harry guessed. Draco sent agreement his way and continued, "It's not like the Malfoy Manor, but it's not as bad as I had feared…" Harry snorted in amusement and imagined Draco, standing on a chair and staring in horror at a mouse scuttling over ragged floorboards. He raised his eyebrows in question and Draco glared back. There wasn't much heat in it though, and Harry figured that _was_ what his once-pureblooded-heir turned blood-traitor friend had imagined.

_Should we start transfiguring more bookcases so we can unload some of our necklaces?_ Harry asked from his position by the jutting wall-end, motioning to the office on his far left. Draco shrugged elegantly;_ It's not as if we have any pressing matters to deal with tonight._

Harry smiled a little, _Unlike most nights in the past. I am happy we're out of that forest though…_ Draco shuddered dramatically and agreed; _So am I._ Harry just rolled his eyes at his friend's theatrics and went ahead to the office. They had a lot of unread books still- especially the few old tomes on Ancients that had mysteriously appeared after their first feeding as vampires.

The three books had appeared out of nowhere and had startling them both into attacking. The covers of the books were all luckily covered with very powerful Unbreakable Charms and merely smashed into the ground (resulting in a crater). After suspiciously examining them from a distance, Harry had picked one up -to Draco's insulting comments about _brainless Gryffindor recklessness- _and discovered the books' titles and inventories.

_**Vampyr quod Ancients- hu is anginn (Vampires and Ancients – how it began).**_The thickest tome was written in a very old, near incomprehensible mix of Latin, old Runes and old English. They hadn't even got through the first chapter, since reading the book required them to –by hand- compartmentalize the different languages before actually translating it. It took _forever_.

_**Vox of Atrum **__**(Powers of the Dark)**__. _This book had intimidated Harry a little and even Draco, though amazed, had seemed unsure of it.

_Ornamentum of Equitatus __(Weapons of the Horsemen)- "_Thy personalized weapon thou shalt wield in thy quest…" This chapter contained information about different kinds of weapons, and why a particular weapon suited a certain personality. At the last page was what looked like a personality quiz, which both Harry and Draco had decided to try. A weapon that could only be wielded by its master was too convenient to pass up, especially since they couldn't perform the Anti-Thieving Charm any longer.

_Voco Creatura of Atrum __(Summoning the Creatures of Dark)-_ "What dwells in the Abyss, the servants of the Dark…" Easy summonings like _Serpensortia_ was only the beginning it seemed. Hardly even worth mentioning when you read about the horrifying Creatures this chapter so vividly described. None of these beings were mentioned in CoMC… for good reason. Though summoning more than a few of the beasts took more power than they currently wielded, even one of them could cause great destruction. Both Harry and Draco were very interested in this particular ability, since it was stated that the Creatures could become familiars if both parts were agreeable.

All of the Creatures seemed to be some kind of perverted or disfigured counter-parts of the magical creatures known in the wizarding world. Except these had horns and too many teeth and twisted bodies with too many limbs- Harry had turned the page after seeing a picture of what _might_ have passed for a Cerberus if it had appeared in someone's nightmares.

_Verto__ Somes (Transmuting the Body)-_ "The Creatures under thy command may share their attributes…" If you ever wanted talons for nails, poisonous horns of bone or more teeth than a shark, this was where you looked. It could apparently only be done if you knew how to summon one of the previously mentioned Creatures. Both Harry and Draco had been interested in it though- having weapons that simply grew out of your body when you needed them sounded mighty useful. Even if they mostly were- as Draco commented snootily- 'ugly in the extreme'.

_Vitualamen Ritus __(Sacrificial Rituals)-_ "Nourish thy servants with thy enemies…" Harry and Draco both flat-out refused to consider this. They might be Dark, but sacrificing people to demonic entities- even if they were enemies- was just evil. Voldemort kind of evil. The two remembered all too well how the soulless body of Tonks had looked after she was consumed by a Dementor on the Dark Lord's orders.

_Usura Radix __(Using the Source)-_ "The circle of life goes through thy body…" About using the life-force of things around you- be it plants, insects, animals or humans- to heal yourself or others. They were unsure of why this wasn't in the book of Light, since it didn't actively harm anyone- or send them to an afterlife of pain and torment- thusly, this was something they had both decided to be pursue as soon as they could. The book said it sapped power like a sponge (maybe not in those exact words, though) and they didn't know if they had enough at the moment.

_Mortuus Botany __(Dead Botany)-_ "Planting seeds of destruction…"Devil's Snare galore! Apparently, the 'Essence' of an Ancient could cause plants to become semi-conscious, and would automatically do anything their master set them to. Neither Draco nor Harry knew what the Essence of an Ancient was, though. They didn't have any real blood- it was still in their bodies, but there was nothing _in_ the blood anymore. Basically it was red water with the consistency and _smell_ of blood, but nothing that made had once truly made it into a 'life essence'. Harry just hoped they weren't expected to feed their souls or anything like that to the plants, should they attempt to grow one of these dead flowers.

_Oris Vorago __(Opening the Abyss)-_ "Into the Abyss they go, to be swallowed by the Creatures…" The direct-line to fire and brimstone central, which they both –again- categorically refused to even consider.

_Penitus__-regnum defero (Inter-realm communication)-_ "A battleground, a cimiterie, a hospitāle has many openings to the Realm of Death…" Communicating with those who had moved on but refused to rest- not quite ghosts, not quite passed on, but somewhere in between. Calling the dead to you could be a lot of help if you needed 'buried' information. There were a lot of risks involved for all except Necromancers, who apparently naturally developed this ability when they started training.

_Necromancy-_ "The Arts of End…" Summoning decaying corpses of all kinds through the ground to fight for you was only the bare bones of what this ability was. Apparently being a Necromancer was to be in 'Death's embrace'- it sounded like the dead protected you, or stood by you if you chose to walk this road. It eased you in to a lot of the other Dark abilities, as long as you treated the ability with the respect deserved.

_**Powers of the Light.**__ This book, to both of their surprise, had not been what would in this day and age be classified as "Light" magic, appearing to contain only Dark magic as well._

_Lingua et Lingua (Language and Language) - _"And the Tongues of Men shall be open to thee…" Apparently being dead enabled you to understand "thy kin"- whoever said 'the dead tell no tales' obviously had never heard of this book. It was quite a shock for both Harry and Draco to realize that no, the inhabitants of the Hidden Countries didn't speak a word of English. Only when they focused intently on the speech or letters they came across could they tell that it was in a different language than their native one. Harry had commented that Parseltongue had felt the same way to him in the beginning, and wondered if they'd be able to tell the difference faster in the future. Draco hadn't really cared.

_Ornamentum of Equitatus __(Weapons of the Horsemen)- as stated in the book of Dark._ Draco had suggested that maybe since the weapons were personalized, this particular ability was Neutral?

_Pluvia Prisma (__The Prism)-_ "What moods may have you…" Descriptions of how to see auras and lift certain colors-moods- to the surface. This could be used as a booster for your allies before a fight or a demoralizer for your enemies. Both Draco and Harry thought it sounded extremely useful- because half the battle was already won if your enemies had lost the will to fight. Apparently, controlling several moods or one mood for a longer period of time took a very long time to learn as it was a requirement to be able to hold your focus precise and your head perfectly clear.

_Verto__ Somes (Transmuting the body)- as stated in the book of Dark._ Why this ability was considered Light, neither Draco nor Harry had any idea.

_Music tempero __(Music to control)_ – "First, there was the Word…" This chapter described how one could use song and instruments to create a mind-controlled bliss not unlike what the Imperius Curse did, but more likely to hold up during longer periods. It directly translated your intentions to your victim who would then follow them to the best of their ability.

_Tripudio tempero __(Dance to control)-_"Then, there was Movement…" The ability to move in a way that allowed someone to move alongside you, couple-wise or in a smaller group, in perfect coordination- like in a dance wasn't anything like what was described in the previous chapter. It relied more on instinct and on how comfortable you were with your 'dance' partners. Draco, with his childhood of balls and high-society had taken to this ability like a fish to water- it was the reason they could move in such perfect unison.

_Vas Oculus Niveus__ (The Glass Eye)-_ "Seeing through it all…" Harry had called it 'Glorified x-ray vision' while Draco stared at him in irritable confusion. It allowed someone to somehow-the details weren't too clear-'re-melt' their eyes into translucent glass eyes that could be used for both Scrying and 'x-ray'. It was apparently a very volatile ability to develop fully though, and keeping it on for longer periods of times could have very serious consequences.

_Gelu fulsi (Cold__ light)-_ "To erase every obstacle in thy path…" The seventh chapter was about how to use pulses of Cold Light to utterly annihilate an area or object. The light would creep into every small crack and destroy whatever you wanted from both the inside and the outside.

_Phthisis of __Astrum (Consumption of Stars)-_ "Transference of the whole…" Apparently an ability that allowed you to use 'stars' to remove your soul out of the body. How one caught a star was not described, and the chapter was smudged with weird flowing lines over its pages.

_A__dversus pars sicco (Inversion)-_ "To erase from within…" Using hair to kill people in horrific ways- why it was listed as Light was anyone's guess. The pictures were particularly detailed, and while both Harry and Draco agreed that it was a very effective weapon… it wasn't something that they would attempt for a good while yet.

Harry wasn't sure if having books falling from the skies when someone became full-fledged Ancients was tradition, but the amount information they contained was to astounding to even attempt to ignore no matter how they had gotten the hands on said information. Convincing Draco to touch them had been easy when Harry read the inventory list out loud, and since they didn't sleep they had a lot of time to study- but even then they had only managed to read the first halves of the two books of power.

The first ability they had mutually attempted to learn was Necromancy, since it was such a good inlay for practically all of the Dark powers. Harry had met almost immediate success when attempting the first- rather gross- summoning of a dead rooster. Harry hadn't really cared that it was a Dark power, but he had been unsure of whether he'd ever use human corpses or skeletons, until he started hearing the Voices of the Dead- the Inter-real communication. Where Draco could only occasionally make a bone jerk, Harry had gotten the _whole_ Necromantic package. His blond friend hadn't been as envious of this as Harry would have thought he would be- Harry suspected it was due to his vanity- and when Harry, with a line of animal carcasses trailing after him had explained to Draco about him dipping into the Inter-communication, the blond had looked more spooked than envious.

It had been a relief to hear from the Voices that the usage of their bodies didn't disturb their spirits. Apparently it was some kind of honor to have one's body drawn out by a Necromancer, and the Voices easily guided the corpses to do his bidding. Neither Harry nor Draco were squeamish- not since the beginning of the war at least-, and even less so since they had been Turned, but it had been some time before they got used to the rotting limbs and the rattling bones that had taken to trailing after Harry at times.

There were a lot of corpses from different eras pretty much anyplace you walked, so summoning the dead was something Harry could do almost anywhere.

Draco had taken to Music control as quickly as he had to Movement control and could literally sing like phoenix- though there was something almost chilling in his tone as he did so. He had practiced eagerly on the different animals during their hunts, which would then near them incautiously- drawn to the beautiful sounds his blond friend made. It made hunting almost a bit too easy.

Draco mused that Harry's gift for Necromancy was due to him surviving the Killing Curse so long ago, while Harry countered that Draco's gift for Control was because of his bloodline trait- the Lure. It felt natural for both of them to study their chosen subjects, despite their initial reactions. The wizard-magic they had left didn't feel as 'sincere' as the vampiric gifts they could now use. Harry had a feeling that their very nature was what eased them into this acceptance but found that he didn't really mind if he had changed- they would probably need it to deal with their new vocation.

The two sat down by the unheated kotatsu and removed a few of their necklaces. The largest seashell that hung from the middle of one of Harry's necklaces held the book of Dark, while a similar one of Draco's held the book of Light. They had almost automatically chosen who would carry which book- and neither of them were very surprised by the choice that had instinctively come to them, even if it hadn't been what they would have expected before they found the books.

Focusing their thoughts inwards, Harry asked the Voices for guidance to better his Necromantic control while Draco started running over tones and notes to create more melodious harmonies. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**A/N:** I know I hinted that they were going to meet neighbors this chapter, but as you can see that didn't happen. I sincerely apologize- it'll happen in a while, I promise.

SO, SO, SO! **What did you think of the powers?** Please comment on the powers *flails around nervously* I kept feeling like I was a telephone salesman trying to advertise my goods when writing it- I had to summarize them, but make sure they were properly explained too. Did it disturb the 'flow' in your opinion? Was it too RPG-ish? (I've never really played old school RPG, but someone commented on it, so…)

Mistress Nika set the ball rolling with several of the abilities, so a big 'THANK YOU' to her!

The pair voting is officially closed with **Harry/Itachi** in a landslide win. I'll try to keep it as realistic as I can- it will not be fluff, obvious seme/uke, the "romance" will not take over the story etc. I'm trying to avoid getting too clichéd. (If you have any pet-peeve clichés, tell me. I want to know what you guys feel is too common, even though I might not necessarily agree.)

'Harii' and 'Dreiko' are turning into 'Hari' and 'Dureiko' because Lore or Mess pointed out the Japanese alphabet wouldn't be able to spell out the former. Thank you for that, I really should have realized it myself!

Several people have commented on how they want to know the ages of the people in RM and which ones I've changed from canon- I'll try to get an age-list up in the next chapter.

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

As always; please review- tell me what you liked, what confused you, what needs improvement, errors or inconsistencies you noticed…


	8. Conversations II

**Chapter 8**

**Conversations II**

When dawn started spreading its red light across the office floor, the Ancient duo sat up and stretched. It was only about six o'clock, but since they had never gotten around to Ward any of their bookcases against intrusion they had mutually decided to "wake up" a bit earlier than required. It took a while to create Runic Circles, and they couldn't rush it since rushing could lead to them blowing the whole apartment in the air.

After an ironically spoken "Good morning", Draco retrieved some unused parchments from a shelf in one of the bookcases and handed one to Harry. He retrieved two quills from one of the smaller seashells, and gave the larger one to Harry while claiming the very slim one for himself. Through writing with quills improved your handwriting drastically and the inherent gracefulness that came with being a Vampire even more so, Draco had the most precise calligraphy of them both- and that actually increased the natural power flowing within the Runes. So Harry wrote down the base Runes and let Draco work alone on the detailed ones that held the Circle together.

When the two Circles were complete, Dortea - the basic Protection Rune- and Procima –the basic Invisibility Rune- written largely in their middles and surrounded by the three dozen or so other intricately networked smaller Runes, the two teenagers stood back to watch their work. It was roughly seven-thirty and they needed to get going soon, but admiring the artwork that a finished Circle was held great satisfaction.

"I hope we're not getting too bigheaded…" Harry muttered to his friend, who only snorted in reply. _Well-deserved self-praise is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. We did a good job, and the end result turned out beautiful._ Draco's mental voice was so self-confident that Harry had to agree.

After using Refreshing Charms on themselves- not that they actually had much in the way of body odor- they exited the apartment. They both knew that they would need to breach the subject of their sustenance with the Hokage today, because as the few heartbeats in the corridors around reminded them- it was more dangerous for them not to feed than for them to offend Sarutobi's sensibilities. Hopefully the old Hokage would be accepting, and if he was not… well, there weren't many options left for them then.

Discreet Notice-me-not Charms that still caused a few of the shinobi to turn around suspiciously ensured that they remained largely unnoticed on their way to the Hokage Tower, where they removed the Charm and greeted the same secretary they had met the day before. She smiled widely- discreetly raking their bodies up and down with lightly blushing cheeks- and waved them towards the Hokage's door.

Nodding politely, they passed her and closed the door behind themselves. At the desk sat Sarutobi, already smoking his pipe, but looking rather at ease. They traded discreet glances, immensely relieved by what looked to be at least partial acceptance.

Draco took the lead and strode forward gracefully, "Good morning, Hokage-sama" he greeted with a bow. Harry copied him and they both saw the Hokage's smile faintly.

"Good morning, Hari, Dureiko," he gestured to the chair with his pipe, "please have a seat."

When they were seated comfortably, the Hokage began; "I trust your accommodations are to your liking?" They both nodded at the obvious pleasantry and waited in silence as he re-stuffed his pipe.

"I have thought on the information you told me yesterday," he continued without preamble "and after some consideration I decided that I wanted to know a bit more about what it means to be a _Vampire_, particularly about your…" he trailed off.

"Eating habits?" Draco finished evenly. Sarutobi nodded, and though he looked a bit unnerved at the images his mind was no doubt conjuring up he was still a great deal more relaxed than they had been expecting. Draco nodded seriously and turned to look at Harry- and though there was no mental communication involved, they still understood each other.

Draco explained about the forest they had fed in before, about the tranquilizing and numbing nature of the venom that coated their incisors as their hunting instincts rose to the surface- and while the Hokage's expressions melted and reformed during Draco's monologue, they never turned disgusted or horrified. Even when Draco carefully mentioned that they would need to hunt as soon as possible, or have the Hokage supply them with blood, his expression remained more thoughtful than anything else.

The Slytherin didn't explain much about the other facts of Vampire lore besides that the 'deadness' of their bodies was what caused their lack of chakra, but Sarutobi didn't call them on it. He seemed pre-occupied with the 'eating habits'- and especially yesterday's statement that Harry repeated- that what they ate and what he ate wasn't so dissimilar if you thought about it. At least, one wasn't worse than the other.

* * *

The office was quiet as Sarutobi considered the two teenagers' words. After a sleepless night disturbed by whispers and arguments and bloody images, he had finally decided that he would simply have to wait for their scheduled meeting before taking any kind of action. Come morning he'd hopefully have answers- or at least enough information- to make an educated decision.

Oh, he knew there were many things they weren't telling him. But he could detect no lies in the strange and rather terrifying tale the blond Dureiko weaved. And though he by no means was completely reassured- too many years of working as a shinobi, with the knowledge of anatomy and blood capacity and how much power it took to snap a neck or how long it took to bleed someone dry- made sure the imagery in his mind remained vivid.

But still, hadn't he seen shinobi- sometimes enemies, sometimes people closer to home- commit atrocities worse than this… _peculiar_ type of eating? And wasn't there some kind of widely enjoyed soup that contained blood? Chouza had rambled about something like that once, he was sure.

In the end, it was the fair raven-headed Hari's compelling question that swayed him to acceptance, _"How can you condemn us, when we only drink the blood where you consume the flesh?"_ Sarutobi didn't like it. He didn't- but he had seen worse, heard of worse things, _remembered_ worse things, than the knowledge that these two –children- had entrusted him with. He knew it must have been a great leap of faith, to reveal something that they were obviously very well aware could trap them.

He could read anxiety in their eyes, even if their faces were as if made of stone. He might not have seen it if he hadn't been a Hokage for such a long time and seen it in many others eyes- though the duo's emotions were hidden exceptionally well even for shinobi, especially for people so young.

"That is all I need, for the moment. And I will have a bag of bl-_sustenance_ retrieved from the butcher and delivered to you as soon as possible. Will that be satisfactory?" Sarutobi smiled at the pair and saw the tension flee their eyes. Sarutobi tried not to let any of his unease show. Despite his shaky acceptance of their particular needs, imagining what they would do with the blood from the butcher's shop still made his stomach roll a little. Nevertheless, he would honor his word.

Hari nodded at him gratefully, while Dureiko- whose apparent high upbringing shone through- merely gave a slight twitch of his neck. It could have been considered disrespectful, and had they been in the company of others he would have reprimanded him, but Sarutobi felt that this moment marked the beginning of whatever the whispers of Dairokkan had been hinting at that time at the bazaar.

Shaking off the feeling of destiny and fate that really didn't have a place in a full-fledged shinobi's mind, he motioned to two low boxes he had placed behind one of the piles of paperwork that always seemed to occupy his desk. The boxes were made of blank polished red wood, with tiny golden locks on one end and were the standard first equipment- the one that marked them as ANBU- given to all new ANBU members.

Both Hari and Dureiko looked on curiously as he placed the two boxes opposite them. The conflicting feelings of regret and pride that always accompanied similar occasions rose in his chest. ANBU were on the very top of the shinobi ladder, but also at the very bottom. Sure, famous ANBU got respect and recognition- but those very same ANBU were the ones that most often ended up in Konoha's Mental Asylum, or took swords to their stomachs or had nightmares bad enough to warrant permanent sleeping drugs. That was a fact that most often was swept under the rug during Academy lessons- and when young Genin with sparkling eyes said that one day they'd become ANBU, Sarutobi's heart clenched.

He had always been staunchly against allowing children- teenagers- into ANBU, because he felt that what little childhood shinobi would ever have should be spared for as long as possible. In war, as had been the case for the past several years, the allowed time for childhood had shrunk even more because the standard graduating age from the Academy had been lowered to ten instead of twelve, with a few exceptions.

The graduates had to be adequately prepared for life as Genins, even if it required them to stay behind a year. It was one much-discussed issue that Sarutobi had absolutely refused to show leniency in- rushing the children's education and graduating them unprepared, no matter how harsh the situation was outside, was expressly forbidden.

Of course, there were also the few geniuses that sped through the Academy with disturbing ease. Sarutobi had no choice but to permit these children to graduate early- because he had no real cause to hold them back, no matter how much he might want them to savor their youth. Even geniuses could be children, could –if allowed- contain that glimmer of innocence that faded all too fast in times like these.

These two in front of him, though, were no unprepared innocents. There was no lingering spark of childishness in those sharp, beautiful features and those gem-like eyes. So a twinge of regret- hastily suppressed before it could evolve into something that might make him change his mind- was all he allowed himself to feel as he twisted the locks upwards and revealed the white unmarked masks that lay inside.

What he hadn't been prepared for however, was their reactions. That same stillness that the day before had convinced him of their story, now illustrated something fierce and angry and _frightening_. There was a glint of sharp teeth and a hint of a snarl, feral and beautiful and deadly- and Sarutobi calmly closed the chests and regarded the duo. Had those expressions been directed towards him, he would have been alarmed, but they were not- their sole focus were the masks.

"Is something wrong?" he enquired softly. The teenagers' expressions seemed to melt and flow about their faces before settling on forcedly neutral. Sarutobi couldn't read their eyes, but he could make guesses- masks were worn by ANBU of all nations, and if their hometown had been destroyed by Iwa it was likely that ANBU had been at the very forefront of the attacks. He had seen similar reactions from other shinobi to easily identifiable marks of belonging to a certain group, like Hitai-ate's, ANBU tattoos or local types of clothing.

Dureiko shook his head tightly and his slender fingers reached for one of the frozen raven's sleeves- Sarutobi was happy to see this human gesture- and carefully wrapped themselves around Hari's arm. A moment of silence passed while the two pulled themselves together.

Sarutobi began explaining slowly, "The masks are decorated by the ANBU members themselves in accordance with the Hokage's chosen representative animal for the new ANBU." He paused; glad to see the returning curiosity in their eyes. "Usually when inducting shinobi into ANBU, I have a record of their previous missions, their strengths and weaknesses and a basic outline of their personalities. Since I do not have this for you, I thought that perhaps you might have an idea of what animal representative would suit you?"

The duo exchanged visibly amused glances. "A tiger." Hari answered surely. "A peacock." Dureiko said, nodding, and picked up both the masks, passing one to Hari. "Do you have any paintbrushes?" Hari asked, tracing the mask with the tips of his fingers.

Sarutobi nodded and picked up the calligraphy brush he used for signatures and gave it to Draco. He was unsure of the source of the teenagers' amusement, but since it was much preferable to their previous mood he didn't to comment on it. He re-stuffed his pipe as they worked on the masks, curious to see what kind of markings they would paint. They had tigers in Hi no Kuni, but they were rare and only lived down south near the border. Peacocks, as far as Sarutobi knew, only inhabited small areas in Kawa no Kuni.

'_Perhaps__ this _Lonudonu_ is located around the Hi- Kawa border?'_ Several minor towns were spread along the south of Hi no Kuni, so it wasn't impossible. That would explain why he hadn't heard of it- the smaller towns down there were known to keep to a bit to themselves, most of their inhabitants farming or fishing for a living. They had a good trading route going between them, Sarutobi remembered.

"There." Sarutobi looked up and saw them holding up the masks, the ink still drying. Dureiko's mask had three peacock tail feathers outlined on the forehead. The typical white peacock markings were outlined around the eyes, trailing down the cheeks almost down to the chin.

Hari's mask on the other hand, bore three curving lines- like thick waves- across the forehead and a half circle that curved upwards from the corner of the eye-hole around the temple-area, with fang-shaped vertical triangular marks- also beginning from the corner of the eye- stretching over the cheek-bones and ending at ear-length.

They were unlike any other ANBU masks in that neither animal had ever been used for a mask before. It was beautifully done, and Sarutobi wondered briefly if they both had been trained in calligraphy or art.

"What color do you want the decor painted in?" Sarutobi asked after finishing his study of their work. The masks were colored by the same artists that designed most of the signs for the shinobi buildings and ANBU armor- the Suga Clan. They originated from Kaminari no Kuni, but had emigrated to Hi no Kuni at the creation of Konoha and had always been a Clan of craftsmen. The current Head of the Clan, Emisuke, was a great painter and had been the one to paint the majority of the masks after gaining recognition as the Leader of one of the more influential (mostly) civilian Clans.

"Light blue." Draco said without hesitation. Hari seemed equally sure in his choice; "Dark orange." They were unusual color themes for masks, and Sarutobi wondered if they were ignoring the camouflaging aspects of the colors or if they were simply ignorant. He doubted it was the latter, as their vaguely formed expressions indicated that the colors held a particular- personal- meaning. It was unusual to allow so much freedom of choice for new Konoha shinobi- for most Konoha shinobi, actually- but Sarutobi felt that at this time it was probably the best way to go about things. He could always re-evaluate his opinion later.

"Very well. You may retrieve your masks tomorrow, together with information about your first –trial- mission. Perhaps you would enjoy sight-seeing for the rest of the day, and learn to navigate around the Village?" They both nodded at his suggestion and rose from the chairs in unison, taking the dismissal for what it was. Their faces were expressionless but relaxed, and as they bowed – intoning "Hokage-sama"- Sarutobi felt as if they might truly make both good and _loyal_ shinobi. The remaining twinge of unease at sending two children on an A-class mission- he had a suitable mission in mind- lingered for several minutes until the paperwork distracted him.

His final thought as he submitted himself in accounts on the progress of Academy students for the past month- pushing thoughts about the newest members of the Konoha shinobi ranks aside in favor for some recently neglected mundane, but important reports- were of the curving path to hell, and the good intentions that led there.

* * *

**A/N:** A super-early chapter, as a treat for my reviewers! There were even reviewers that took the time to review on more than one chapter!

I love watching the review-count increase. It makes me feel appreciated and accomplished- the more reviews I get, the more I end up writing. Thank you! *bows*

Not much happening in this chapter, though. I still feel like I'm "setting the stage", so to speak. The next chapter, however, is titled "The Uchiha Compound"- things are finally starting to move ;) Anyway, I like slow going fics, so there!

**Ages**** in RM ONE YEAR AFTER KYUUBI** (The "Naruto generation" is currently 1 y/o)**:**

Sarutobi- 57, Sannin- 39, InoShikaChou- 28, Aoba- 20, Raidou- 17, Genma- 17, Ibiki- 16, Kotetsu- 16, Izumo- 16, Kakashi- 15, Yugao- 14, Iruka- 14, Anko- 14, Hayate- 13, Tenzo- 12, Shisui- 12, Itachi- 10,

There you have (some of it) it. Most have just been changed a year up or down- some haven't been changed at all. Major changes are: Canon Itachi- 6, Canon Kotetsu/Izumo- 13, Canon Raidou- 20… Probably more that I've forgotten at the moment D:

If you want to know any other people's ages, just ask. Some people you can just look at the others of their generation though, to see roughly what ages they are. The Naruto-gen. parents, for example.

May I ask if anyone knows what year Tsunade, Jiraiya and Orochimaru defeated Hanzou and became the Sannin? And what year it is in the ninja world, since I doubt they consider it 1996?


	9. The Uchiha Compound

**Chapter 9**

**The Uchiha Compound**

Harry and Draco walked out of the Hokage Tower and into the morning sun feeling rather relaxed. The second meeting had gone as well, if not better, than the first. They had secured both their positions and a promise for blood without drama, and the Hokage seemed almost completely accepting.

"Can you hold on until the delivery?" _Will you make the sightseeing without attacking anyone?_ Harry didn't actually communicate the last part, but the implication was clear to Draco anyway. And well justified, though he didn't like to be reminded of his shaky control.

"Do you have any of those disgusting pops?" he asked with a grimace. Harry nodded, looking sympathetic, and handed Draco a Blood-pop- he'd apparently had the foresight to bring some with him when they left the apartment, something Draco knew he should have thought of himself.

He crunched down on the blood substitute pill, allowing the artificial flavor to bleed over his tongue. It tasted like a mixture between cardboard and coagulated blood- but it soothed his thirst. Harry watched him chew, before sighing and popping one into his own mouth.

"I think we should find a library." Harry commented as they began walking down the sparsely populated street. Draco hummed in agreement, causing a few women to turn around and stare at them. The women were promptly ignored as Harry continued, "We can ask someone for directions." It usually balked at Draco's pride to ask someone for help, but they were new to the Village, so he couldn't really consider his lack of knowledge a weakness in this matter.

After asking a wide-eyed pedestrian for directions to what was apparently called the _Konoha Head Library_ they made their way leisurely through the Village. Several times, someone would stop and stare or whisper- or the shinobi that flew across the rooftops would observe them- but both Harry and Draco were used to it. It did make them both a little twitchy, though- usually when someone watched either of them back in England, it was a precursor to an attack.

The library was a large white building with a traditional Asian roof. They interior were sparse- consisting mostly of functional chairs and tables- and bookcases stood in neat organized rows in all directions. Finding the history section was easy even without help, thanks to the signs hanging from the ceiling.

They spent nearly an hour in the library, devouring book after book on historical people and events. After that, they spent a lot of time reading about the Clans of Konoha; their abilities, what they did for the Village, what they were famous for and what standing they had in the current political climate.

The Uchiha Clan was prominently featured in the records as the most prestigious Clan along with the Hyuugas'. Harry still thought they seemed a bit too Malfoy-esque, but couldn't stop reading about them anyway- they were only blood-bonds he had left, though he doubted he'd ever have been able to fit in with them even if he had decided to try. Draco seemed to understand his convoluted reasoning for his near-obsessive reading and said nothing.

"I want to see the Uchiha Compound." Harry suddenly said. His own voice startled him a little, because he hadn't intended to say anything. Draco looked unsurprised however, and shut the book he had been skimming. _Are you intending to make contact with them?_

Harry grimaced slightly. _No, I just want to see if they are as stuck up as they seem to be. As the Hokage thought_. And it was true- he wasn't going to join a family that stood for things he didn't believe in. But neither was he going to judge based on other people's opinions.

The way to the Uchiha Compound was depicted in one of the records, and they only took one wrong turn on their way there. They stuck to the roads, at a regular pace, instead of running on the roof-tops as the shinobi did. Supposedly, they were sight-seeing, after all. "Spying" on Konoha's premier Clan wouldn't endear them to the old Hokage, even if they would be doing it for different reasons then what would have been perceived.

The low wall that separated the Compound from the rest of the Village was still tall enough to completely hide it from outside eyes, so Harry and Draco cloaked themselves in Illusions. They were unsure of whether it would hide them from the Sharingan, but since this was as good a time as any to figure that out… well, even if they were seen, Harry doubted they'd be caught.

After jumping up a tree covered in small pink flowers, Harry and Draco got a panorama view of the Uchiha houses. It was almost like a miniature Village, with people dressed as both shinobi and civilians moving through the streets. The smallish traditional houses were all marked with the Uchiha crest, a red and white fan, over the doors and most had large wood porches at their fronts.

Several training grounds lay in front of them, though only a few scattered shinobi were currently training or sparring on them. Harry noted the ebony colors of their hair and their pale skin with longing. These were his-far removed- relatives, of that there was no doubt.

"Inabi, you are to report to the Elders immediately!" A man in his thirties called to a long-haired teenager who had been throwing kunai at a bull's-eye hanging on a suspended log. "Yes, Yashiro-san!" The teenager hurriedly gathered his kunai and ran up to the older man.

"I thought I was supposed to report to them this evening! Has something happened?" He asked worriedly. The older man shook his head in what seemed like annoyance. "No, but Fugaku-sama and Itachi-kun are to use this training ground now, so the honored Elders switched your appointment. Since Itachi-kun has just made chuunin, Fugaku-sama wanted to give him extra training." The last bit was said with unmistakable pride, and Inabi's expression changed from worry to irritation.

"Extra training to compliment his extra training?" He muttered to the man called Yashiro, frowning. Yashiro shot a sharp glance at the younger male and snapped edgily, "Itachi-kun is the pride of the Uchiha Clan!" he rapped his knuckles on the teen's head. "He needs the special attention if he is to become a good Clan Head!" Inabi was silent, nodding tersely and Harry watched as they disappeared around a corner and out of his view.

He turned to watch Draco, who had shifted his focused to an approaching pair- a boy, around ten and a man in his mid-thirties- probably the _Itachi-kun_ and _Fugaku-sama _that Yashiro had spoke of. Fugaku was the current Clan Head according to the records in the library, which would make the boy his eldest son.

The Clan Head had a stern expression on his face, making his wrinkles all the more apparent. He looked like he had aged too fast- and for that matter, so did the boy. Itachi had two deep lines going from the root of his nose almost all the way down to the corners of his mouth and circles under his eyes. His eyes darted about the way all experienced shinobi's seemed to, constantly scanning the surroundings for threats.

Their spar began simply, with only taijutsu. Itachi would try to get through his father's guard and Fugaku would parry him and snap out advice (admonishments, really) about his technique or his stances. Itachi managed to land several glancing blows, though, which amazed Harry. They were moving very quickly- much quicker than Harry would have expected someone so young to be able to keep up with- and he could tell that Itachi had a lot of experience fighting. His instinctual reactions were almost as good as his father's.

Nevertheless, Fugaku was still a lot more experienced than Itachi. He was also very ruthless- if Itachi let his own guard down in the least, Fugaku would slam him across the yard instantly. The ten-year-old would get up every single time, unfailingly, but to Harry it still seemed a bit too cruel. Especially since he never praised Itachi when he did something correctly.

After 15 minutes or so, Fugaku stopped and spoke. "Now, ninjutsu." Itachi nodded, panting lightly. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but his eyes were sharp and alert. '_Or maybe, _shrewd_ and alert_,' Harry thought when he saw the calculating look that fell over the child's eyes as his father turned to pick up a scroll from his hip pouch.

_Slytherin._ Harry heard Draco remark, the smirk clear in his mental voice. Harry found that he agreed- Itachi, or rather, the look in Itachi's eyes was quintessentially Slytherin. _Probably needs it with a father like that._ He remarked, frowning when Fugaku suddenly blew a gigantic fire projectile in his son's direction. Itachi jumped aside quickly, but Harry could see that his clothes were singed along his left side.

The Uchiha Head ignored it, proceeding quickly, "Karyuu Endan, The Dragon Flame Projectal. The theory is written down in this scroll-" he tossed the scroll at the ground by Itachi's feet "-and I'll be back to examine your progress this evening. Make us proud." Without waiting for a reply or even an acknowledgement, he turned on his heel and stalked away from the training ground and his son.

Itachi stood still in the same position for a few seconds, and then bent to pick up the scroll. He seemed unsurprised at his father's curt tone and his face revealed nothing as he stood reading the scroll. It was rather disconcerting to see a child with such mastery over his emotions, Harry thought.

_Harry._ Draco caught his attention and threw him a small vial from his position on the branch on the other side of the tree. _I saw burns on his arm when he opened the scroll._ He responded to Harry's unvoiced confusion and continued, _It doesn't contain any magical ingredients, merely herbs. I don't know if he will accept it, but knowing your Gryffindor sensibilities you'd probably keel over with guilt if you didn't help him._

Harry stared at Draco. Sometimes the Slytherin was so unsubtle it shocked him. Obviously, he wasn't the only one who didn't like the Clan Head… Draco just had to concoct plots for every kind gesture, lest someone accuse him of having feelings.

Harry turned back to look at Itachi. The boy's eyes had turned from the darkest black to a swirling red inferno and he was going through the motions of the hand-seals carefully. Harry threw the vial upwards and watched as it fell down in a perfectly vertical line in front of Itachi, who caught it with one hand and armed himself immediately. His knees lightly bent and those red, red eyes scanning the vicinity he looked so much more like a shinobi than a child that Harry was surprised.

_That is one strong kid__._ Draco remarked, and Harry nodded, then shifted his eyes to the side and smirked. Very deliberately, he picked a flower from a twig beside him and blew it in Itachi's direction. When Itachi spun around- _eyes whirling and fists poised, an adult's expression on a kid's face, an old man's wrinkles marring childish skin and a frown that spoke of readiness but not fear_- Harry and Draco simultaneously jumped away from the tree and the Uchiha Compound. They didn't stop running until they were several streets away, in an alley behind a bakery they had passed earlier.

It wouldn't do to be seen, after all. _Especially when indulging in 'Gryffindor recklessness'_, Harry thought in amusement. Draco groaned.

* * *

Itachi observed the vial in his hand. It had come from nowhere, literally falling from the sky. He had caught it reflexively when he felt something above him. In hindsight, that had been a very amateurish mistake- one that would have earned his Clan Head's deep displeasure had he been there to witness it. It could have been a kunai with an exploding tag, or something of equal destructive properties.

The flower had definitely been blown- deliberately, Itachi was sure- from the tree to his left, though. Which meant that someone had been watching him and his father sparring- without either of them noticing. Itachi didn't waste time feeling embarrassed about his less than stellar performance against the Clan Head, because logically the injuries he had received in yesterday's mission would impair his fighting ability. Instead he focused on the sakura tree from which the flower had been thrown. Someone good enough to remain undiscovered by the Clan Head was obviously a very formidable shinobi.

Itachi uncorked the vial carefully. As far as he knew, none of Konoha's medical staff used vials made of glass, which made it even more suspicious. The murky greenish liquid inside could easily be poison, and if it was, even air contact could be detrimental to his airways. Air-born poisons were only common in Kusagakure, but he wouldn't take any chances, even if it seemed a bit _too_ obvious a trap.

He held the vial away from his body, but when no obvious immediate effects occurred, he dared to bring it a bit closer. The smell of Aloe Vera gel he could identify almost immediately, but none of the others that were mixed in. Aloe Vera was used to treat burns, he knew, but who would anonymously hand out burn paste to strangers?

'_Shigeru-san is a medic. Perhaps I could ask her about this concoction. I do__ not think she would be averse to examining it for me.'_ It was better that he made himself aware of possible threats immediately, instead of risking a possible continuing string of such events. If it was from one of the ones Shisui sometimes referred to as "fangirls", he would want to be aware of that as well.

'_Though none of these so-called "fangirls" have ever seemed to possess the necessary skills to keep themselves hidden as well as this person did.'_ Itachi mused, eyeing the tree through his Sharingan. It was obvious that whoever had been there wasn't there any longer.

Pivoting sharply on his heel, he walked away from the field- keeping his body poised without letting down his guard down in the slightest.

His Sharingan picked up on nothing more than the rustling leaves in front of him.

* * *

**A/N:** Itachi is SO HARD TO WRITE. Did he seem …err, 'Itachi-ish' enough?

I have hit a bit of a writer's block, currently… I know where I want to go with a particular even, I just can't seem to find it in me to actually write it out properly at the moment D:

Yashiro and Inabi are both Canon characters.

Thank you for reading. _Please review_.


	10. The First Mission

**Chapter 10**

**The First Mission**

**Some gore warnings for this chapter.**

They spent the rest of the day just walking around the Village and getting used to the surroundings and smells. Every once in a while, they would eat a blood-pop or stop to rest in the shadows of the alleyways. As the dusk lengthened the shadows and the sky turned pink and orange, they walked back towards the apartment.

The apartment didn't truly feel like a home yet, but as they warded the doors and windows together- talking about their impressions of the Village, what they had liked, what stores they wanted to visit… Harry recalled something that Arthur Weasley once told him: It's the people that make the home. Draco, in all his Slytherin-princely glory was home- and because he was, someday this place would be too.

Draco must have felt him in his mind, because he turned to Harry with a questioning frown that bared his fangs. But in the pink light streaming through the window and illuminated him, Harry thought that his friend had never looked less dangerous.

Before either of the two had the chance to say anything, there was a knock on the door- or rather, a series of three knocks- so Harry went ahead to open it. It could only be the blood delivery from Sarutobi, because Harry he doubted that the ANBU went around to 'welcome the new folks to the neighborhood'.

He opened the door to a slit, revealing a man in strange sunglasses- they looked almost like the muggle diving-goggles Dudley had gotten for his tenth birthday- carrying a large brown paper-bag.

"Hello." His voice was light and casual, and a small smile played around his lips. "Hokage-sama told me to deliver this." Harry opened the door wider, focused on the bag, and thusly didn't notice the other's shock. _'He's so young! He can't be older than 13 or 14! I thought Kakashi-kun was supposed to be the youngest ANBU- '_ Harry took the offered bag and retreated back behind the door, nodding politely.

"Thank you for delivering this." He said evenly, not wanting to appear too friendly or seem arrogant. Acting polite but cold was a sure card to play (at least, Draco seemed to think so). Aoba- having gotten his expression under control with the discipline that was a second nature to any ANBU- nodded back, still smiling (if perhaps a trifle forced) and waved as he walked away.

Harry shut the door behind him and Draco called out, "What kind of blood is it?" from his perch on the kitchen table. Harry chuckled lightly.

_I haven't looked yet, Mr. Impatient._ He chuckled some more when Draco started grumbling. Sometimes he still acted like the spoilt brat he had once been.

He opened the paper-bag to find a smaller plastic bag inside. It was dimly see-through, kind of like frosted glass, and the red liquid inside made a lurching sound as Harry pulled it open to inspect the quality. It smelled very nice- definitely from a carnivore- though it had already started coagulating around the edges of the plastic.

Suddenly, Draco was beside him. "That smells _heavenly._" He intoned in a deep growl. Harry relinquished the bag to him, thinking that his friend must be starving for him to sound like that.

After both of them had fed properly- with Draco drinking the most- they once again sat down by the kotatsu to practice. Bones sprouted from the floor around Harry, while birds flew to the windowsill to listen to Draco. Neither spoke very much of the mission they would be attending the next day by unconscious agreement. This was the last day before they could truly call themselves shinobi, and since they didn't have any idea what the mission would consist of, imagining different possible scenarios would probably not be to their favor.

---

The next day dawned much the same as the day before, though this morning seemed chillier. The world looked a bit grayer through the cold, a little more ominous. The duo wasn't nervous as much as tensed at the thought of the upcoming mission; it had been a while since they had had to kill humans. Not since the war… and that particular memory-lane was a dangerous one to walk down today.

The same secretary sat in front of the Hokage's office, but today she was accompanied by two guards as well. From the looks of their uniforms, they were Chuunin, but they didn't actually seem to be guarding anything- they were very intently focused on chatting up the secretary. Neither noticed their arrivals, to Harry's amused bemusement. Draco just shook his head in annoyance at their incompetence.

On light feet, the duo passed the secretary's desk and went inside the room- not until the door slammed behind them did the guards realize that someone had passed.

"Good morning, Hokage-sama." They greeted the room's occupant in unison. Sarutobi nodded and smilingly waved them forward.

At the front of his desk lay the two wooden boxes from yesterday, and with a nod from Sarutobi, they took them in hand. The wood was smooth and cold under Harry's palms and it was with vague anticipation he unhinged the small golden clasp.

The mask was beautiful in its matte porcelain glory. The furrows he had drawn yesterday to resemble tiger-stripes were painted in a caliginous orange color with thinner black lines accentuating the eye-holes. It was made with an obvious eye for details and symmetry, and Harry smiled a small but genuine smile as he thanked Sarutobi.

Draco was very happy with his mask as well, from what Harry could see of the curve of his mouth in his peripheral vision. The color-theme went in shifting ice-blue and sea-green, with the same delicate black lines around the eyes that Harry's mask had.

After a few pleasantries and some honestly curious questions regarding the mask's painter, Sarutobi turned serious. Harry and Draco leaned forward slightly to show that he held their complete attention. He gave them each a paper with a large 'A' written in the upper left corner. As they read through the mission particular, Sarutobi summarized it vocally;

"Your mission, Rank A, is to retrieve a scroll from one of Iwagakure's bases in Tsuchi no Kuni. To reach Tsuchi, you will have to cross Kusa no Kuni. This should pose no problem for you, as Kusa and Hi are of amicable relations. This specific base is not as heavily guarded as it was during the war, but you will be facing at two squads of Chuunin and Jounin. Konoha ANBU Intelligence has received reports from Konoha ANBU Reconnaissance that the squads consist of five mid-Chunin and seven low-Jounin. Time expected for completion is two weeks, due to the long travel way. "

They could both feel Sarutobi's gaze upon them as they read. Perhaps he was waiting for them to give up? Ask questions? Request back-up? They did none of those things. They had both read the descriptions of what was expected of a shinobi, especially when dealing with the Hokage. Orders were orders, and as long as they were reasonable, Harry and Draco did intended to follow them- they both knew what they had signed up for.

In the end, the Hokage said nothing, except "Good luck." And perhaps it sounded a bit patronizing, or maybe sad and regretful, but it was genuine- and so were their answering bows.

As they walked along the corridor leading to the Tower exit, Harry thought quietly, _I could never be Hokage._ Draco sent feelings of troubled agreement. Sending men out to possible deaths against a higher number of opponents, however necessary it may be, could not have felt good for the old Hokage. Especially since they both knew Sarutobi thought of them as children- though that wasn't much of a surprise-, it must have been a hard decision to make.

"I wonder why he didn't choose an easier one for our first?" Draco spoke guardedly as they moved down a backstreet. Harry shrugged, making his dark clothing waver, but didn't answer. The glue-like thin film of nearly odorless substance that held the masks to their faces gave them both a feeling of safety- they were faceless, professionals with a purpose. The only objective was the faultless completion of their mission.

Harry wrapped the hardened persona he hadn't used since the war around him like a cloak and muted his emotional responses by strengthening his Occlumency shields. He could feel, rather than see, Draco glancing at him and nodding.

Draco leaked Movement Control into Harry and Harry fell into step easily. The mental connection snapped into absolute efficiency and they jumped over the gigantic wall in a perfectly synchronized motion. Neither led or neither followed the other. They were like water in a stream, running fluidly with steps like water drops across the grass and vegetation. The trees blurred as they sped past.

Draco had tied his hair back and it tailed after him like a streak of moonlight in the otherwise pink dawn. He knew he should probably have put it up in a bun or even cut it shorter, but his vanity had stopped him (didn't it always?).

As they ran by the woods outside of Konoha, the heartbeats that forever thumped in their ears in the Village disappeared. Except for their footsteps, light as raindrops on the uneven ground, there were no sounds of humans. It was unusually refreshing, to be able to let down their guards a bit.

This was one of the times Draco was truly content with being an Ancient; they could continue running almost non-stop, through nights and days, as long as they fed every now and then. Harry had long since discarded his shoes, and Draco gratefully did the same, feeling the grass and earth and _nature _under his feet. It wasn't something he'd even have considered doing had they had company, but Harry had looked so free bare-footed that Draco felt it justified. An action that put an expression like that on his friend's face- the first of its kind in months- was worth repeating... even if it was a bit undignified.

By the fourth night, they had reached the Kusa- Tsuchi border. Kusa hadn't cared much about their reasons for crossing their country as long as they had the appropriate papers to grant them permission, though a young one-eyed Chuunin who guarded the gate had given them a few odd glances on their way in.

The outpost was genial in its simplicity. Made of rocks and half-buried in the ground, it would have taken them much longer to notice it had they not heard the thumping heartbeats that betrayed the human life in the vicinity. Draco smirked, allowing the bloodlust they naturally felt as vampires to creep around his mind for the first time since the forest. He doubted that doing so would cause trouble, as it naturally alleviated some of the tenseness.

The only guard on the outside was a bored looking jounin. Draco waved Harry along, and they silently crept closer from opposite sides, surrounding him. They were within mid-range striking distance before the jounin noticed them, betraying himself with the widening of his eyes.

Draco ran- quickly, aiming a kick for his head that was parried when the jounin slammed a fist into his chin- it didn't hurt, but the human was _fast!_ He spotted Harry lunging for the jounin's neck, but so did the jounin-

-too late, as a decomposed, near skeletal hand reached upwards from the earth like a prayer to grab his ankles, and Draco thought the smell of decay and death was fitting as he slammed a fist into the jounin's side-

-and the ribs crunched under the onslaught, the sound like thick and wet, and Draco felt the warm flesh (so unlike his own) embrace his fingers, not wondering if that was a lung or a kidney at his fingertips but preparing to make a killing blow-

-the jounin ripped his hand out of his side, letting out a pained half-moan and flung himself downwards out of Harry's sweeping arm, which he shouldn't have done-

-because now the fresh, fresh, fresh human blood was pouring, seeping, _spurting_ all over Draco's shoes and he had ate already but it was like comparing wheat bread to a feast for kings-

-ripping of his mask and tasting; and _gods_, was there anything more delicious than this hot liquid filling his mouth like the finest of wine? Breaking out of his trance when Harry snapped the other's neck the same way all prey in the forest had eventually met their end, Draco looked down at Harry, seeing the waning bloodlust in his eyes be replaced like grim horror at their actions-

-because Harry had snapped the jounin's neck with his jaws, and lodged between his bloodied teeth were thin strings of flesh that reached over his lips like too-thick hairs in a nestled mess. And when a muted gasp rang out like a death-knoll behind them both, Draco wondered if they had already messed up.

* * *

**A/N:** I tried to write the fighting scene as an explosion of movement, but I don't know how well I succeeded…

My writer's block is still going strong, so the next chapter will probably be delayed D:

Please review if you liked the chapter!


	11. Memento Mori

**Chapter 11**

**Memento Mori**

**Some gore warnings ****for this chapter.**

Daisuke stood frozen, staring in disbelieving horror at the scene in front of him. He was a new Chuunin and this was his third major assignment- though it hadn't felt important at first (they were to guard some documents that _nobody_used- why they didn't simply make a copy of the document, or hell, move it to a safer location- he didn't know). They had been out here in nowhere for about two months- with mind-numbingly monotonous routines as the only thing to keep them going- and Daisuke had complained just this morning for _anything_ to break the damn monotony.

He and Joji –_who wasn't, -_couldn't be-_, the one laying in a heap on the ground with a blood covered face and two _demons_ leaning over him like the stray dogs gobbling up scraps thrown out the backdoor of his favorite restaurant back home_- because Joji had laughed this morning, and told him to get himself a hobby if he was so bored ("Or read that hidden stash of 'educational books' you brought with you!" -a rough laugh as he blushed at the implication.)

_Joji_, who was bright and funny if not the best or most skilled shinobi, who had taught him how to throw a shuriken properly and teased him mercilessly about his first girlfriend- _Could. Not. Be. Dead_.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, so quick and easy- an existence erased like nothing, like leaves in the wind or dirt in a stream. Joji had been like his older brother since before Daisuke earned his Hitai-ate and his life could _not_ have been swept aside so easily. It just wasn't possible.

Dazedly, he watched as the dark-haired boy (no; the _demon_) bent his head upwards to look at the blonde, and all the directions and rules and regulations that supposedly prepared you for every situation flew out the window. Because between the demon's teeth- sharp as nails with gleaming incisors- were pieces of flesh, and the blood was running down his chin and below to his chest, dripping on a hand holding a striped mask which significance Daisuke didn't really register.

He gasped.

Eyes like emerald immediately focused on him unwaveringly, even as the duo rose up in a flowing synchronized motion that didn't look human- turning to observe him closely. For a moment, they were frozen, but then the blonde –gleaming silver strands illuminated by moonlight swaying behind him- took a step forward. The trance was broken, and he could move again.

He threw a kunai at the blond, who side-stepped easily, but before he could do anything worthy (protect his comrades, his land, his Village' secrets, or _avenge his brother_) there was a hand –_cold and smooth as ice or maybe marble?_- around his neck and two large green eyes in his face, filling his mind- and something was moving under him, but he couldn't look away, because the hand -_thin fingers_ _without calluses-_ wouldn't let him look down.

Something grabbed at his feet- _hands, no too thin to be hands, what is that smell?_- and slithered up his legs and up along his inner thighs, like a caricature of a caress- _hadn't his girlfriend, his Riina, done something similar the first time they_- until they grabbed at his hips.

The green, green eyes looked at him and he thought he saw something in their depths that didn't belong in a demon. He looked away, not wanting to see its (_his_) eyes looking sad or regretful- _because_ _demons don't feel sadness, don't regret_- and soft as silk, he felt something on his cheek, smelling like blood but he didn't have time to questions what it was-

-because suddenly, there was a tug from below and a clenching of the cold fingers encircling his throat, and everything went black.

* * *

Draco had broken the Chuunin's neck easily. A mere twitch of his fingers cracked the spinal cord to bits; the sound like dry spaghetti despite the soft bone marrow pressing against his fingertips.

The decomposing hands that ensnared the dead Chuunin like snakes were pulling at the legs, trying to draw the body down under the Earth's surface, and Draco let go of the neck and watched detachedly as the limbs split apart – like seams ripping- under the force of the Necromantic dead.

Gray eyes slid up to meet green, the expression that surely twisted his own face reflected in his friend. They had killed before; war was war, after all, but this changed something… Though Draco couldn't figure out what exactly it was, not knowing if it was something they needed and wondering if he liked it.

Neither of them had ever felt so inhuman. Not because of the kill itself… but the method of killing. Or rather the lack thereof. Teeth ripping and tearing, snarling and growling like- like _animals_.

_Not like this._ Harry mumbled quietly through the link. Draco spoke a loud, "Never like this. Never again." And though the words were but a whisper, it seemed to echo into the night, thudding into place like the deepest of vows.

After a few moments, they shook off the solemnity of the words and re-donned their masks. Becoming so distracted in the middle of a mission- their first, _trial_ mission- was unforgivable. This incident would be thought of later, in the relative safety of the apartment, but for now they had a mission to complete.

They re-approached the covered base- having moved aside during the fights- and Harry opened his mind to the Voices of the dead, joined now by two new and confused male ones who seemed quite unsure what was going on. Harry pushed them away; he would not communicate with his victims- and he doubted they would want to talk to him.

But a lot of other people had died here too. _The Voices of the_ _causalities of war_, Harry though absently, _have_ _a flavor of their own_. Chaotic and overlapping they met his mind but only about four of them came to the forefront, whispering about sentries and where to step lightly.

A gravelly man's Voice showed him were the opening to the base, informing him of the layout and where to expect traps. Harry relayed it all to Draco, and they crept along the ground on silent feet. The skeletal hands grasping Harry's calves and stroking his bare feet felt strangely reassuring, despite the acts they had just previously committed.

They went down below the surface through the craftily concealed entrance- a very well-weaved illusion of some kind, but since they had no chakra for it to grasp a hold on, they bypassed it easily- and went down below the surface.

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump_. The heartbeats were loud as drums, even as the rest of the underground structure was eerily silent. Harry absently noticed the lack of noise from humming machinery, and the fact the walls were lit with torches. Apparently electricity didn't function down here.

Harry and Draco snuck towards the sound of pulses- all gathered in one location- and ended up outside a room in the very middle of the base. It was a strategically smart location, though Harry didn't think it would be to the shinobi's advantage, considering that they were all _sleeping_.

Draco stared hard at the door, and with a nod to Harry he opened his mouth and started to sing. It was a low, soothing melody that would probably be classified as a lullaby, had it not been in bird-song. Harry raised his Occlumency shields higher and concentrated on not listening to Draco's dulcet tones, lest he fall for it as well.

He opened the metal door carefully, stepping in lightly, with Draco- still singing- behind him. In several cots along the walls lay the remaining Iwa Chuunin and Jounin. The duo exchanged a glance in mixed dismay and determination. _Here goes…_

Since the floor was made of some kind of metal, Harry couldn't bring forth any of the dead for assistance, so he retrieved two small vials from one of his necklaces and approached the right side of the room.

The poison was a strong one, with a very bitter smell, and as it was acidic it would take effect immediately upon skin contact. He handed one to Draco, who nodded and turned to the left where most of the Chuunin lay. He was still humming soothingly to the room in general, and though the shinobi were tossing and turning a bit, none showed signs of waking. They applied the poison in areas where the skin was thinner; wrists, necks and lips- and slipped out of the room. The unvoiced agreement was that they'd listen to the heart beats slowing as they searched for the scroll, rather than actually watch the lives drain away before their eyes.

---

There was a very large difference, Draco reflected, between assassinating and killing someone. When in the midst of battle, a kill came easily. Your adrenaline was pumping, your body constantly blurring in motion and your mind never staying in one place for longer than a second. An assassination, however, was a calculated and completely focused action where your mind was very much required to remain steady and centered.

The difference was all too obvious in the silence as they left the base behind them, and the scroll in stored in one of Draco's empty seashells felt almost physically heavy around his neck. He shifted and rolled his shoulders lightly, knowing that it was actually all in his mind.

"When were we expected back?" Harry's voice startled him out of his thoughts, sounding weary but still semi-alert. Draco mentally calculated the days-casting an eye towards the rising sun- and answered, "It just became 9 days. It took us four days to travel to Tsuchi, so we do have quite the marginal. Why?"

Harry stayed silent, mulling over the answer. As Kusa came into view once again, he spoke up. "Would you be amendable to staying a night in Kusa?" Harry's voice was very stiff and eloquently polite. It was disconcerting. Perhaps he was more affected by this than he had seemed at the time? He nodded and smiled pleasantly, and they re-entered Kusa without trouble.

The hotels in Kusa- at least in the district they had ended up- were more like brothels with very flimsy veils of decency that fooled no one. One of these hotel-brothels, _Hanabana Isei_, they had passed on their way to Tsuchi and it was one of the few that looked at least somewhat respectable. Apparently, that was where Harry was heading them.

The manager of _Hanabana_ was a short man with a small graying beard dressed in a neon-pink trench coat with a fur collar dyed in a horrible fake green color. He had a warm but rather grotesque smile on his fat lips that made his double-chin quiver.

"How much for a room?" the mask muffled his friend's cold voice, and if Draco hadn't known Harry, it would have been pretty intimidating. The manager certainly seemed to think so.

"For one n-night?" Harry nodded silently. "2000 yen." Draco shot his friend a glance and retrieved the appropriate amount from his pocket. During the sightseeing in Konoha they had found a jeweler who had traded several gems for this world's currency, and he had brought a bit with him when they left, just in case.

The manager showed them to a room on the second floor, decorated in garish colors and smelling like cheap perfume. Draco wrinkled his nose discreetly but made no comment, instead nodding politely to the manager as he retreated out the door.

Harry gracefully plopped down on the bed- with leopard spotted sheets and a flimsy transparent cloth hanging from the ceiling, surrounding it- and the silence stretched out in the room like heavy waves of the stormy sea. Draco wondered if he should just straight out ask what was wrong or try to subtly steer a conversation into it. He had just parted his lips, when Harry spoke.

"I felt like an animal." Draco was quiet, but turned his masked face in Harry's direction, waiting for him to extrapolate. "There was just thirst and need and a mindless all-consuming feeling of _predator-prey…_" Harry's voice was strained and feelings of shame wafted through the bond like whispers in fog, but Draco stayed silent. Harry probably needed to say this without interruptions.

"When we were in the forest I didn't mind very much, because even humans eat animals... But this was something else. And I do not want it to happen again. I do not want to lose control so completely again." And Draco understood; for months living with Voldemort in his head, even being possessed a few times- it must have reminded Harry uncomfortably of the war. And neither of the two liked to think about the war.

"I feel like I forgot what it meant to be human, in that one instant." He finished quietly, a muddled sense of loss and sorrow coating his mental voice. Draco sighed. He had felt something similar, at the very beginning, but obviously Harry had a different way of looking at the consequences of their transformation.

"We'll need a motto, then." He declared with feigned unconcern. "To make sure we never forget." He could feel Harry blink up at him, and the strain in the bond eased a little. Draco tapped his long nails on the drawer he was leaning against, thinking. He had only a vague idea of what would be suitable; what would encompass the desire to remain who they were, despite their nature- when Harry's mental voice sounded in his head the perfect one.

Like the echo of a whisper the Latin phrase pulsated through the bond.

_Memento Mori._ Remember Mortality.

* * *

**A/N:** This ending scene was actually the first event I saw in my head even before I started writing RM- the story evolved from there.

We got to see Harry and Draco use their abilities as well, though they still don't have them fully mastered. It was fun to write though.

Writers block still in the way. This chapter isn't entirely beta'ed either, but hopefully that won't be too much of a problem.

I forged my way through the chapter after this one, but I'm wholly unsatisfied with it. I'll try to get it up as usual, though.

Thank you for reading. Please review!


	12. An unexpected ally

**Chapter 12**

**An unexpected ally**

The night passed in silence and introspection, unbroken in its calmness. The sense of acceptance that swathed the bond with the settling of the new motto was wonderful to Harry. _Memento Mori_ felt right somehow; like an anchor not only to their humanity, but also to the past and the memories they had made as mortals.

Their respective musings were suddenly broken by a knock on the door. Although both of them had heard the steps approaching their temporary room, they had been expecting them to pass. Harry felt Draco glance at him before turning to open it. It seemed rather unlikely that an enemy would knock on the door, so neither of them was very worried.

At the threshold stood a red-haired girl. She was dressed simply in a white dress that showed off her long legs; quite obviously, she was a prostitute. Whatever Draco had intended to say to the woman died in his throat as she suddenly scowled and bit out,

"Well? If ya wanna do this shit ya better fuckin' hurry it up, 'cause I don't have all night!" Behind his mask, Draco blinked. He wasn't well-versed in the behaviors of hookers towards their clients, but this wasn't what he had been expecting. They hadn't even called for any prostitutes in the first place…

He told her as much and watched warily as her face darkened. She stepped inside the threshold with a defiant tilt of her mouth, daring him to speak against the action. Draco merely watched her- she had a certain grace to her movements that belied her occupation. She must have been trained as a ninja for years to be able to walk that silently and smoothly over the creaking wooden floor.

---

"Look, the manager said I had to entertain ya, and I ain't fuckin' leavin' 'til I have the money he's expectin' of me." She looked around the room with derision, eyes pausing briefly on the other masked form perched on the bed. How she had been able to miss him, she wasn't sure, though it made her nervous. She was good at what she did- very good, and her missing something so obvious just didn't happen.

They were ANBU though, by the looks of their masks, and apparently they were good ones. Though she couldn't tell what animal the blue-painted mask depicted, she thought the orange-striped one might be a tiger. She would make sure to remember that.

The tiger on the bed shifted slightly and for a second the air seemed to grow colder- more hostile than confused- so she got in stance very subtly. She needed the money, and sex or no sex, she'd get it. She bent her knees in preparation, covered mostly by the ridiculous dress she was wearing, and leaned forward.

Suddenly, there was a knife's blade at her neck and a cold hand in her hair. She pulled in a startled breath, stiffening at the tiger-mask that was just a few inches from her nose.

"_No_." There was something very definite behind that one word, and her hand- which had been creeping towards her hidden shuriken-pouch- stilled. She _was_ confident in her skills; her ability as a ninja. She wasn't the best-looking girl… or the most well-mannered, but she was intelligent and resourceful- and yet, that one word made her feel as if she'd just hit a stone wall. The instincts she usually ignored in fights (the ones that whispered, spoke or rarely; _screamed_ "danger, danger!", and that every ninja developed at one point or other) suddenly made themselves heard. Clearly.

She forcibly relaxed her body and marked the escape routes with her eyes. She had pride- didn't everyone?- but if the choice was between her pride and her life, her pride could go hang. Though it went against everything they taught in the Kusa Academy, her loyalty was not to Kusa, but to herself. She had grown up as a street-rat; the survival instincts she had developed even before her inauguration into the ninja ranks were still as fresh in her mind as they had been ten years ago.

The hand atop her head stilled as the air in the room warmed. Though the hostility and suspicion was still there, much of it had faded away. As the blade at her neck slowly retreated, she exhaled in mixed relief and wariness. What fresh hell was this?

"Name?" the question came from behind her, melodious and soothing. It reminded her of her flute. _Genjutsu?_ Even with that thought echoing in the back of her mind, she couldn't resist the feeling of _wanting_ to answer the question. "Tayumi Yamami…" she could hear her own dazed voice through the haze of tranquility that had taken over her mind. It took her several seconds before her mistake caught up to her.

Who were these people? She had never heard of a Genjutsu like the one she was apparently under, despite Genjutsu being her forte. They must be masters of the art for her to have succumbed so easily. She snarled inwardly, cursing her carelessness, the manager of the brothel, the ANBU strangers holding her capture, the world in general-

Her evermore creative expletives were interrupted by a melodious chuckle from behind. She frowned heatedly. How dared anyone laugh at her-?! Against her better judgment, she turned her head towards the sound, growling. It only resulted in the chuckle turning to a laugh, but the hand in her hair relaxed and the tiger mask in her face retreated further away.

"Well, Yamami-san- it's nice to meet you." The tiger mask said wryly. He paused, and she bristled as he examined her quietly. After a moment, he continued. "May I ask why you are so desperate for money that you would work in a place like this?"

Tayumi gaped inwardly. She had expected taunting and interrogating questions, not this. Whatever 'this' was. She would have to be careful; gauge their reactions and wait for an opening to present itself. She frowned deeper. That didn't mean she had to be accommodating, though.

She jutted her chin out. "What's it to ya?" she had a distinct suspicion that the tiger mask was smiling at her from behind the mask. Just to in case he was, she glared.

"Well, Yamami-san, I have a business proposition for you." Tayumi stared. She couldn't help it. Just when she thought she had begun figuring them out, they threw her a curveball. She squared her shoulders in response, still cautious, but also quite curious about the honestly coating his tone. The hand on her head was removed and she very deliberately remained where she was.

"Let's hear it, tiger." She was a street-rat at heart still and she'd be damned if she let any opportunity slip her by. She would survive, no matter the cost.

* * *

An hour later, Harry and Draco sat together with their new associate on the bed, playing cards. The fourteen-year-old was cursing up a blue-streak at her repeated losses, to the two Ancients amusement.

Draco shot a glance at Harry during the hubbub and smirked slightly. No matter how much the raven may deny it, the way he played and –almost- cheated proved he was a bit of a Slytherin. It would have been interesting to have had Harry in his House during the Hogwarts years, especially with his way of _not_-manipulating people into doing what he wanted.

It was one of those things that only happened around Harry. A prostitute turned spy (though Harry hadn't put it quite like that)- how he did it, Draco had no idea. Granger had been right, though; Harry truly was a trouble-magnet. Weird things just happened naturally around the ink-head, dragging anyone near him into it as well.

Tayumi Yamami, under the newly developed codename '_Tayuya_', was one interesting (tough and rude) girl, though. A Gryffindor to boot, despite her colorful language and disintegrating morals, she and Harry got along surprisingly well. Harry quite obviously liked her outspokenness and thought her 'spunky' (a muggle word, clearly), and Draco could quite honestly say that he didn't mind her either.

He wondered if he was becoming desensitized to Gryffindor bluntness and grimaced. Sometimes he really did miss the Slytherin intrigues that had shaped his childhood. He was getting rusty.

When the morning dawned, Harry gave Tayuya a few ounces of pure gold and Tayuya –swearing happily- promised to act as their eyes and ears until they returned to Kusa. Harry was kind of disappointed in her lack of loyalty towards her country, but with the way she had grown up he didn't seem to find it too surprising. And anyway, it wasn't like they had ever been loyal to England themselves; they had fought for their friends, because really, neither of the two had been very fond of the wizarding population as a whole even before the betrayal.

They left Kusa very early- thanking the manager insincerely for 'providing entertainment'- and began their run back to Konoha. Harry had been disturbed at how an underage girl so easily could get work in a brothel in a civilized Village, until Draco pointed out that she really didn't look like fourteen. Not with her colorful tongue and the hard, distrustful eyes under those unruly bangs.

_Usually I would be more worried, but considering that shinobi are soldiers, and some shinobi ha__ven't even hit puberty yet… I think she can take care of herself. The manager didn't seem to know she was underage, and the money you gave her ought to keep her away from Hanabana for a long time._ Draco finished his argument calmly, despite the feeling of wrongness in the pit of his stomach. If this had happened during the war back home, he'd have been horrified. And yet here, were everyone and their children were military, it didn't feel like such a huge deal as long as it was voluntary.

Harry frowned, but didn't disagree. It wasn't like they could do anything about it, but it went against all instincts to leave the situation as it was. He wondered if that was what it meant to be a shinobi; working every situation to your advantage, even at the cost of something precious. He would bet it wouldn't be the last time he'd do so, and helplessly turned his thoughts towards their new motto. As long as he remembered that, his soul would probably remain intact. Hopefully.

* * *

**A/N:** **The last two paragraphs don't reflect my personal opinions! *shudders***

I am aware that I'm aging Tayuya quite a lot, but there is a reason for that.

This chapter was where the writer's block hit me the hardest. It was almost impossible to write, I tell you! -fans herself- I'm still very …disappointed in it, I guess… I had wanted to write it better than this. I hope it didn't feel forced?

I tried to get it out in time, but it was slightly late, I know. And a bit short –points at writer's block-. Sorry.

The block does seem to be easing up -**a little**- though, but I had to muss up the outline I had for it to start letting go. Then I wrote an interlude thingy and made a rather big decision, which to me felt completely right: Very soon, there will be a TIME JUMP!

I just thought I should prepare you.

The time jump is because I feel like I can't get the story moving along the lines I'm planning if I have to spend a few chapters depicting… well, nothing. Not much will have happened (as in events) during the timejump; regular missions being pulled, getting used to Konoha, the strain from the war easing… Our boys weren't prepared to be very social during that time, and kept mostly to themselves.

I didn't want too much stuff to start happening right away, it feels too unrealistic. I mean jumping to a different realm after ending a horrible war, turning Immortal and then becoming shinobi directly under the Hokage… and then getting involved in –whatever- right away? No. Just no.

Things are finally starting to move! *grins* I feel like I'm finishing up the "OPENING ARC" of the story. Wish me luck!


	13. Interlude: returning

**Interlude: returning**

The return to Konoha was eventless and with several days to spare, they were back in the Hokage Tower once more. Sarutobi had quite obviously been surprised to see them, but smiled welcomingly and invited them into the office to report.

Draco gave the report in a very matter-of-fact way, including the fact that they were able to run for days uninterrupted but excluding their little detour- for now. They couldn't be entirely sure they had made the right choice in that matter yet, and implicating Konoha in any way could easily have bad consequences for the Hokage if Kusa ever found out he knew about it.

At least, that was what he'd told Harry. In reality, it would likely the Hokage would reprimand Harry, perhaps severely, and until they could show actual good results from the very large risk they had taken, it was unwise to inform the Hokage. At this moment, it wouldn't reflect badly on Konoha either, since they hadn't told Tayuya were they were from in the first place. One could never be too cautious.

Draco finished his report by handing over the scroll. Sarutobi accepted it with furrowed brows, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe. Draco could tell even without Legilimency that the old Hokage was surprised. He wasn't sure were exactly the surprise was stemming from, though. The time-margin?

Sarutobi straightened and put down his pipe. Very formally, he stated; "Well done, Dureiko-kun, Hari-kun. You performed well above expectation, and I officially welcome you into the Konoha Shinobi ranks, as ANBU Operatives _Tiger_ and _Peacock._" He saluted them both regally. In return Harry and Draco bowed in tandem to their waists.

The Hokage dismissed them shortly afterwards, informing them that another mission was scheduled the day after tomorrow, and they began their trek back to the apartment.

---

When they reached their floor of the apartment, they found a new bag of blood encased in a rhythmically shifting muggle contraption waiting at the doorstep.

The constant motion was to stop the blood from coagulating, Harry remembered. He had seen something similar the first and only time he visited a muggle hospital, he explained to Draco, showing images of that time over the mind-link.

They shared the bag between them as they relaxed around the kotatsu in the office next to the bedroom. Draco had opened the Book of Light on the page that held the personalized weapon's quiz and was dragging a finger across the page as he reread the instructions. Harry was tapping his fingers on the table rhythmically, waiting for his friend to finish reading so they could begin.

When he finally closed the Book- by which time Harry was sure Draco was purposefully reading slowly, just to annoy him- he relayed the questions to Harry with his typical over-precise manner. Harry wondered briefly if all Purebloods learnt reciting the way Draco did at their mother's knee or something, or if it was just Draco being snobby. He was leaning towards the latter.

The quiz wasn't every long- some ten questions or so- and they had their answers ready in fifteen minutes. Harry was thankful it wasn't some deeply probing ritual-like creepy-crawly therapist-y quiz. He didn't feel like examining his emotions and his past, and didn't think Draco would either.

They followed the instructions written at the very end of the page –_'let the answers flow out of thee and unto the pages of the Book'_. Under the sentence were ten distinct marks, set out simply in the shape of fingerprints. For being advanced magic, it really was very simple. Draco, who still had the Book of Light by his side, waited for Harry to retrieve the Book of Dark and position it in front of himself. Sitting the way they did- opposite each other, with their hands splayed out over the pages of their respective Books- somehow felt like they were about to perform a ceremony.

Harry couldn't help the anticipation that rose up in his chest. He still had occasional problems with his limited Necromancy- currently the most useful battle-magic in his arsenal- so getting something new and tailor-fit for his use was very reassuring. Like a back-up if he should ever somehow screw up the Necromancy irrevocably.

Harry snapped out of his musings when the pages under his fingers began shifting. It was unnoticeable first, but slowly the paper started to move as waves crashing against his fingertips, or like inwards moving ripples in a pond. He wasn't very surprised-in fact he felt vaguely disappointed-, having expected something more …_drastic_ to take place. Perhaps it was only a matter of time. Advance magic tended to need time to build up before taking effect.

The paper rose up around his fingertips like weeds sprouting from the earth and swiveled around and upwards along his fingers to stop just before his knuckles. A scraping noise-like putting pen to paper- accompanied the movement, and warmth started pulsating under the wraps of paper. The warmth remained with the paper unmoving as it were for almost a minute before fading out, and the paper receding.

Harry flexed his fingers slightly. That was rather anti-climatic. He watched as the paper spirals sunk down into the page and waited uncertainly for something more to happen. After a few seconds, something more did indeed happen.

Spidery letters -that brought flashbacks to a certain diary from years ago- wrote themselves out in the empty spot between the fingerprints, in a very careful and precise manner. Harry would have held his breath had he still been into the habit of breathing, but as it were he merely held himself very still.

_Necromancer Harry, thou shalt have a SCYTHE__._

Somehow, the outcome didn't surprise him overly much. Now all he needed was a Thestral and he would be able to catch employment as one of the four Horsemen. He would have thought it rather clichéd… if not for the fact that this Book had been written before there was such a thing as a cliché.

Chuckling inwardly, he mind-poked Draco, who immediately conjured up an image of the appearing words in his Book:

_Aduro Draco, thou shalt have a GAUNTLET._

Draco sent a slightly bewildered feeling at Harry, clearly not understanding why he would receive a gauntlet of all things. Harry's scythe was understandable because he was a Necromancer, but what did singing have to do with gauntlets? Harry shrugged in reply. It probably had some obscure explanation that would become clear later.

Before they were able to say-_think_- anything more about the subject, the Books lit up.

…Slightly. It really wasn't very impressive, Harry thought with amusement. Not flashy at all. But then, that was what the most useful spells were like. The ones that weren't blatant in the least, and often underestimated, but turned the tide in battle. Harry and Draco had been there at many such instances; a craftily applied Tripping Jinx had once, for example, led to one of the Death Eaters headquarters falling. It had been a great triumph (if a pyrrhic one).

The page spread gave a lurch, sounding like it was choking. The pages rippled outwards a few times, throwing the letters into chaos and the pages erupted like a volcano, shooting something shiny and metallic straight up into the air. Only their vampiric reflexes saved them from having their heads penetrated by their Chosen weapons.

As Harry observed his tall scythe stuck deeply into the ceiling, he couldn't help but wonder if it was on purpose.

* * *

**A/N:** This is not a real chapter, but an interlude (really, it's more like a two scenes I wanted to include but didn't know how *blush*). The next chapter will be up in just a few days. Reviews are ever welcome, and thank you for all support I've received up until now!

**Warning:** School is interfering heavily with my writing, currently. I'm very sorry, but updates will be getting a bit more sporadic than before.

Also, I refuse to see this story as a chore- it needs to be fun for me to write (and share with ya'll)- and pushing myself into releasing chapters in less than perfect renditions because it has to be up at a certain time leeches the fun out of it for me. (This Interlude feels a bit like that, but it's one a.m int the morning and I wanted to get something out before I go to bed)

Hope you're not too mad/disappointed at me, but I felt the need to speak candidly. Even if it may get me covered in rotten tomatoes.


	14. Second Arc: One year later

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 13**

**Second Arc:**

**One year later**

Sarutobi made his way through the lower level of the Hokage Tower, brisk steps taking him closer to the Council Chamber. It wasn't often that the Council could demand a meeting with their Hokage, and indeed that was not the case today. His three advisors- who mainly, in Sarutobi's humble opinion, ran unnecessary interference- had requested a meeting.

Normally Sarutobi would reschedule it due to the extensive paperwork the summer seasons always seemed to bring, but with his former teammates as upset as they had been, he didn't dare leave them in Danzou's claws for too long lest he put conflicting ideas in their heads.

He sighed quietly. One thing he could agree with his 'rival' Danzou about- he was getting to old for this. But there was absolutely no way he would allow someone like Danzou to take control over the Village he had spent so long protecting, and so he would remain where he was until someone suitable could replace him.

He turned his thoughts towards the source of the Council's distress and subsequent summoning: two of his best-kept secrets for over a year- Tiger and Peacock. So young they were, so young and so skilled. They had remained almost picture-perfect shinobi the short year he had known them, still carrying more secrets than he probably wanted to know about, and still regarded by the Dairokkan as two very important people to have by his side.

After that first mission, when they had come back with so many days to spare it had thrown him into disbelief for a second, Sarutobi had spent many hours pondering these two highly secretive additions to the ANBU. He had made enquiries about the two around several of the towns that had been destroyed in the war, but coming up with nothing time and time again. Either Tiger and Peacock where lying- which he deemed unlikely- or their home had been so completely eradicated that not even the slightest scrap of information was left for him to find.

Either way, the duo had served him well their junior year. Every mission was completed without fail, and often with unexpected margins. He had found out more about their abilities as well, having decided that although their 'bloodsucking ways' -as Tiger had so aptly put it in one of their more humorous chats- had not proven to be to the detriment of anyone, being unable to classify two allies as dangerous as the two of them was a mistake no matter what the Whispers told him.

So he had spent a few hours every week dedicated solely to his new protégés. Carefully in the beginning- gauging every word and action on a scale of truthfulness augmented by experience- watching them spar with grace so fluid it astounded him. Oh, he could keep up- he was not the Hokage for nothing- but their effectiveness and lethality was at an, for him, unseen level of genius at their age.

And slowly, he had discovered their personalities- which were mostly hidden deep down under their emotional shields, and their new physical faceless ANBU masks- and found himself appreciating their discussions. Found himself enjoying Dureiko's obscure high-handed humor and aristocratic diplomacy and Hari's general honesty and steadfast opinions, in a way he had all but given up when Minato died and he was thrust back into his position.

Sarutobi had debated for several months about whether to keep the pair cloaked in invisibility and shadow for a while longer, or if he should send them on missions where an all-people wipe-out was not the objective - even actively discouraged- eventuating in their ANBU identities leaking to the outside world.

Necessity made the choice for him, eventually. They had caught a spy in their midst around five months after the duo's arrival, which led to sharpened security in the still ruined areas of Konoha and forcing him to call home even more of the active shinobi. Tiger and Peacock had thusly been sent out further into the Hidden Countries with more all-encompassing missions and with their abilities they had wreaked havoc on their enemies.

Sarutobi still felt guilty.

Their eyes had been hardened when they came to him, but not like the brittle stony marbles they slowly transformed into as the months went by and death upon death was delivered by their hand on a weekly basis. Since they needed no resting time, had never been hospitalized (how that was, Sarutobi didn't know, and wasn't sure he wanted to) there was no official reason to keep them in Konoha.

Even as he watched them spiral into something that made his heart ache as it had years ago- when a small boy with grey hair became the youngest chuunin in the history of Konoha, and later proceeded to forge himself an unwanted soon-to-be-legendary standing with chakra-chirping hands and a lone spinning Sharingan eye- and seeing their seemingly unstoppable future he made the choices that was more likely to give his still grieving Village back their former prosperity.

To be the Hokage was to be a sacrifice; to be a shinobi was to be a sacrifice, and he did what he had to, growing older by the minutes even as his choices proved to be the best for the Village. He watched the mysterious children carve themselves a status that while not yet up to the Hatake boy's, was beginning to make visible waves throughout the world. Apparently, those waves had now reached his advisors.

Sarutobi was as amused by the obvious upcoming talk as he was wary. His two ex-teammates tended to bend to his will when pushed very precisely in a certain manner, and since he had grown up alongside them he knew their reactions well enough to circumvent most arguments. Indeed he even found the subtle verbal sparring enjoyable at times, and it allowed him to keep his political skills ever fresh.

Danzou, on the other hand, was as sly and slippery as an eel and just as deceptively dangerous. He was militant in the extreme, and protective of Konoha to a fault- his philosophy was along the lines of "Kill them before they kill us, even if they haven't shown any sign of hostility, deception, disloyalty, or even sneezed incorrectly. The enemy of your enemy is also your enemy."

Their opinions clashed on nearly everything pertaining to Konoha's security and shinobi forces, so their verbal sparring were really more like 'heated battles'- which he, as the Hokage, almost always won. He only conceded when he was absolutely sure whatever idea his rival suggested wouldn't allow him more power over the Village.

He briefly thought of Draco, whose sharp and skillful tongue in the future could make him a very convincing politician, perhaps even an advisor. How would the blond handle a situation like this? How would he handle Danzou? He still had years to go before he would be up to their standard in the political scene, but the thought was nevertheless an intriguing one.

With a sharpening of his posture, he shoved the door to the Council Chamber open and stepped inside with an authoritative air.

Opposite him, before the numerous Council seats that semi-regularly housed the Council, stood his ex-teammates and Danzou in silence. The old Hokage slid his eyes over their faces quickly, trying to gauge the mood. The advisors looked upset and wary, while Danzou- from what he could see of the small patch of skin the bandages didn't hide- appeared as calculating as ever.

The three murmured greetings quickly and pressed onwards.

"Sarutobi! What is the meaning of this? Who are these ANBU of ours that Iwa claims has brought down one of their missing-nin, Toshimasa?" Homura looked quite upset, and his tone of voice bordered on rude. Sarutobi didn't call them on it, though. He only did that when absolutely necessary.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Homura." Sarutobi answered calmly- probably enjoying baiting his advisor a bit too much- and watched his friend's face redden slightly in frustration. Before an eruption could come, he added; "Perhaps if you told me more of the situation?" There was mild chastisement in his voice, and it made Homura stop bristling and give a nod that was almost a small bow; a taciturn apology.

"A contact in Iwa informed Danzou that Toshimasa Hiko was defeated by two unknown ANBU a month ago. He said he recognized the style of painting as the Suga Clan Head's, and deduced that they must have been from Konoha." Homura reported, furrowing his wrinkled forehead as he waited for Sarutobi to answer.

Inwardly, Sarutobi frowned. A contact that recognized the Suga artist's style..? While he would agree the masks were done very meticulously, they were designed not to be recognized easily. An observer might derive the animal the mask depicted, but the actual painted lines were just that; lines.

One of Danzou's connections in Iwa… a plant from Root, probably. There was something very suspicious about it all, but nothing that he could call the slippery man on. Sometimes he was truly tempted to just have Danzou killed. He really was more trouble than he was worth… but Root was too effective, too invaluable in times like these, and so his hands were tied. He really would have to start supervising the Root ANBU's activities more closely, though. That they had gathered information like this from one of the most suspicious enemy Villages, no less, was – troubling, when Danzou was the one holding the strings.

Sarutobi pushed the thoughts away. "The two you are speaking of would be ANBU Tiger and Peacock, " he answered calmly, taking a calculated risk in disclosing their designated animals. It would really not reveal anything, since neither Tiger nor Peacock was in the official ANBU registry, but to his audience it would seem like a gesture of cooperation.

"Are they new recruits?" Danzou's roughened voice rang out. Sarutobi could almost see the cogs turning in the bandaged man's head. _Oh no Danzou, you are not drawing that pair to your side…_ he thought steely. Danzou's one visible eye was too calculating for his peace of mind, but as of yet it was not a problem- and he doubted that that particular duo would be easilyfooled by the Root Commander's manipulations.

"No, they are not. They have been within my personal guard for quite some time now." He made his answer purposely vague and cited the old tradition of the Twelve Guards- which both the Daimyo and the Hokage supposedly had.

In the Daimyo's case it was true, but Sarutobi himself had unofficially disbanded his own guard when the war began. The need for shinobi had been too great, and he was strong enough to take care of himself. His three advisors didn't know that, though. And with Danzou being as obsessed with keeping 'true to tradition', it would probably make an adequate excuse even with the shrewd militant.

As expected, Danzou seemed to accept the answer, and the calculation in his eye muted. Sarutobi's two teammates seemed a little confused, but neither said anything, choosing to accept his words at face value. Perhaps they were getting too old as well; turning complacent was the first sign that you should quit being shinobi. The two hadn't had missions- or even sparred, if what Sarutobi heard was true- since the war ended.

They were dear to him, but he wasn't sure how much trust he could place in their advice anymore. He knew they tended to yield to Danzou at times very inconvenient for him, and if their skills were slipping as well… But he might be able to do something about that- play on their pride as shinobi (of which they had quite a lot), perhaps.

"They have not been entered into the Bingo Books as of yet, Sarutobi." Danzou spoke guardedly. What little could be seen of his wrinkled face was shadowed and his eyes reflected something- a promise or a threat?- that Sarutobi couldn't quite read. "But it's only a matter of time." He finished, bowing a little mockingly, and dismissed himself.

Koharu and Homura stayed a little longer, discussing inconsequential things, before they too dismissed themselves. When the door closed, Sarutobi allowed himself a small bemused smile. It seemed like things were starting to heat up in the political scene yet again.

* * *

**A/N: **And here is the chapter, yes… Hm. I know it's still too short, but I simply don't have the time to write longer chapters at the moment. I have gigantic test in Politics in a while, so I've been studying for that. I hate that I can't focus on my writing as much as I'd like *growls in annoyance*

Anyway, what did you think? I tried to reflect the past without cursive sectioned flashbacks... and I wanted to show a bit of what Harry and Draco had been up to from Sarutobi's POV. I wonder why I write his POV so often..?

On another note, two questions for you:

1. Any particular POV's you'd like to see?

2. How do you feel about _eventual_ (EVENTUAL!) sex scenes? Do you want explicit/only hinted at/somewhere between the two? I can't say I've ever really written one before, so I'm quite nervous.

I was thinking about posting a chapter from the story I began writing during the writer's block. It's a Dementor!De-aged!Harry and Sandsibs fic. It's not even nearly as meticulously written as RM, and it'll never be, since RM is my main story. I only have like… two chapters I can post, and the updates would be much more irregular than RM. Still… what do you think? Interests you?

* * *


	15. Second Arc: Cows over Mist

**Part II**

**Chapter 13**

**Cows over Mist**

Harry hit Draco resolutely with a frying pan. It wouldn't hurt the blond, but it would hopefully cause him to surface from his Book long enough to glare at Harry.

It did. Draco glared; Harry smirked infuriatingly (living with Draco did wonders for his smirks). Draco shut the Book carefully, and the air stilled in that strange way that always warned of danger when in the field. Draco lunged.

His milky clawed hands ripped the now unusable bent frying pan to bits, and Harry danced around him, mouth serious and eyes laughing.

They had been home for several days now, having returned from a successfully completed assassination in Kiri a week ago. Sarutobi insisted that they rest for awhile- he argued that however physically unnecessary it was, mentally they needed it- before being sent out again. The duo had agreed, acknowledging the truth of the old Hokage's words in the back of their almost-shared mind.

Assassinations, for all that they weren't often violent per se, were the most taxing missions of all. Killing people in their beds. In their baths. In their 'safe-houses' and underground bunkers. Sometimes making it look like accidents, sometimes implicating someone else.

Neither of the duo ever spoke out loud on their missions. Never spoke of their missions, period. The Hokage would enquire about it sometimes- about their state of minds, how they were holding up, if there was anything they needed. He was an anchor, Draco supposed. He was what Dumbledore should have been. So of course they didn't tell him anything. They could feel enough of his guilt as it were.

Harry had just received word- by falcon, and wasn't that ironic?- that the Hokage had a new mission for them and after a few minutes of half-serious mock-fighting, he told Draco so. Draco nodded, already having figured it out, and they donned their masks and sped off towards the Tower.

They had gradually gotten used to running along the rooftops the way all shinobi did, and after mapping out the Village they inhabited -by running through all streets at least once- they now knew it by heart. Vampiric mental capacities were truly a wonderful thing.

In no time at all, they were standing in front of the Hokage. He hadn't changed much appearance-wise from the first time they saw him, but his eyes were much warmer now then they had been. They bowed.

"I have a new and very urgent mission for you." He began, sounding unusually grim. The duo immediately straightened in attentiveness, semi-worried and apprehensive.

"We received a request for back-up from one of our deployed reconnaissance teams two days ago, but unfortunately the falcon carrying the message was injured and took a long time to reach the Konoha missive outpost. Apparently ANBU Squad 7 were ambushed by Kiri-nin on their way back over the sea to Konoha, but managed to escape into hiding with the two remaining but injured members.

In situations like this I would normally send a medic-nin, but I fear we haven't the time for it. I know they would slow you down considerably."

Harry and Draco nodded, and Harry could feel Draco working out and discarding plans quickly. He left the strategic blond to it and asked the Hokage if they had any data on the ambushers, or if they were operating blind.

"Squad captain Lizard wrote that they were expecting to encounter a larger group of Chuunin and Jounin - possibly two squads - within a few days time. Since the targets are Kiri-nin, we may assume that their fighting style is largely based on the Water element, though that is only an assumption."

He looked at the both of them over steepled fingers. "Be careful. We do not want a repeat of Crow-drop." Harry winced imperceptibly at the reminder, but nodded in acceptance of the reprimand. That had been a carelessly preformed operation, and the Hokage was right in chastising them for it…

The Tengu Clan in Tsuchi had been a small Clan; more of a large family than a full Clan. Draco and Harry were ordered to take out the Head of Clan and the Elders- which was really almost half the Clan- and to make sure they left no witnesses. It had been their third major mission since their inauguration, and the second one with an expected high casualty rate.

Neither of the two had been at all happy to get the mission, but had said nothing. Konoha needed this; the Tengu Clan's crows were interfering with their messenger falcons and intercepting information.

The mission had gone south when two of the Clan's Genin walked in on them in the last stages of the (very messy) operation. The two Genin had screamed to high heaven and alerted the rest of the Clan- forcing Harry and Draco to comply with the 'no witnesses' command by killing everyone in the entire Clan.

Technically, their mission was a success, since their primary objective was completed and they were never identified- but it was one of the foulest successes they had ever tasted. Sarutobi hadn't said anything- hadn't needed to- and they had learned caution. They had both been so focused on not giving into instincts that they had completely missed the two approaching heartbeats, over-estimating their abilities and forgetting how dangerous living shinobi truly were.

The massacre that commenced then ironically became known as "The Crow-drop Massacre", both spitefully and sardonically.

The faces of the two screaming Genin from all those months ago swirled in Harry's mind long after they set out from Konoha.

* * *

Namiashi Raidou was bleeding sluggishly from the wound in his shoulder, trying and failing to stop shivering in the cold ocean breeze. His last remaining teammate (and Squad leader)- a blond high-strung pain-in-the-ass named Kobi- was slowly drowning in his own blood by his side.

Those Iwa fuckers had poisoned him somehow, Raidou knew, but he wasn't a poison specialist- and wasn't that ironic, that mad-poison-scientist-Ruka had been the first they'd cut down, because she was careless; just like always rushing straight in without a thought, laughing and smirking and throwing tiny vials around- and _stop right there._ He was not going to become absorbed in memories of her or the others he had fought with (trained with, lived with, laughed with for the past three years) with his Squad leader slowly dying right next to him.

He could hear the bastards trample around – not trample, maybe, they were shinobi and shinobi didn't trample- outside the cave they were in, but they hadn't noticed the two hiding Konoha-nin because of the Genjutsu Raidou had so carefully weaved around their hiding spot.

He was Taijutsu specialist, originally, but his taichou had been adamant that he wouldn't specialize so heavily in one area only. He had agreed, reluctantly, and Kobi had taught him the more advanced branches of Genjutsu.

It hadn't helped though, not where it mattered, and now everyone was dead and gone and Kobi was practically dead as well and-

There was an explosion in the distance and Raidou turned his head in the direction of the sand, trying to compensate for the newly acquired deafness in his right ear by pumping the small amount of chakra that wasn't focused towards the Genjutsu to augment his hearing. He knew it would further whatever the damage was, but he couldn't risk not hearing and be caught off guard.

He closed his eyes and listened, blocking out the sound of the crashing waves to take in the distant shrieks of metal against metal and running feet. He recognized the voice currently cursing up a storm as the bastard who had killed Ruka and almost smiled when the curses turned to gurgles.

Back-up, then. Finally. Not that it really mattered to his team, at this point. But the mission… it wouldn't be a failure. He leaned his head to touch the water-smoothed stones at his back, trying to sigh but only managing to produce something like a choked sob. He didn't cry, of course. His eyes were completely dry, because he couldn't really wish for more than this. They were ANBU, and their only objective was the completion of their mission. Everything was secondary to that.

He was a good ANBU too, he admitted in the stillness of his mind. He was always hidden and watchful, and his team had a good mission-record with almost hundred completed A-ranked missions in the years they had been a team.

He was- had been- a vital part of the team, the primary heavy hitter and if he was a little reckless and sometimes forgot that other people other than him and _the- fucking- enemy_ existed, well that didn't mean he didn't care about his team. They knew that, he knew that, but sometimes you weren't human at all, sometimes you were just a mask in a sea of other masks… and you forgot, just for a second. Forgetting was only human, Raidou thought ironically.

It happened to everyone at one time or other, and it wasn't like those fragments of time were anything more than just fragments; just millisecond slip-ups that wouldn't actually hinder him when it came down to it. Really.

His team wouldn't break over a fragment in time. Would they?

Kobi's glazed eyes stared up at him, and he pretended he wasn't holding the fingers to his taichou's neck to confirm the stillness of his heart so he could safely burn the body. It was procedure, after all. Best not to think of it.

He was not mentally examining that one slip-up he had made, the one that forced Soba to dodge in another direction, one he hadn't intended. Because that one slip-up had occurred during the early stages of the battle, and Soba hadn't seemed hindered by it even when it forced him into a one-on-one with that giant with the nasty smile and hard-ass lightning jutsus.

So it couldn't have been because of that. Soba couldn't have died just because of that. There were a million other reasons, other tiny miscalculations or missteps that could have caused that lightning shot to streak through his stomach and spill Soba's guts into the water behind him.

But if the slip-up he had made, the one that forced Soba into fighting the giant in the first place… if that was the reason…

He very deliberately turned his mind away from that road, focusing exclusively outwards; on the pain in his face, the stiffness in his neck, the coldness of his skin. He had attended the obligatory 'no guilt, no blame' classes during the Academy, so musing over such amateurish thoughts during such a crucial time- _crucial? Everyone's dead…_- was beneath him as an ANBU.

The sounds of battle grew fainter and farther in between and as he closed Kobi's eyes, he wondered absently how many Squads Hokage-sama had deployed for the enemy to be defeated so quickly. Or perhaps he had sent the Hatake genius's squad, the guy they were starting to call 'the Copy Ninja'…

His last thought before he succumbed to darkness was patriotically enough the Konoha Leaf symbol with a vague question of whether they'd carve everyone's names into the memorial, so they wouldn't just be ANBU something-or-other in the afterlife.

He also might have thought he saw something green, but that was probably just delirium.

* * *

Harry could hear the heartbeats over the sound of the rushing waves and he flowed alongside Draco's movements as they sped up even more. There was a rather large chance that everyone of the Konoha ANBU Squad was dead and that all they'd have to report to the Hokage was the burning of the bodies and the elimination of the enemy-nin. Because the latter was almost a given, considering how tired the fighters should be if they had been out here for as long as the report suggested.

When the thumping of the hearts was so loud as to almost be the center of their attention and the labored human breaths were like gasps directly into their ears, they struck. Not the way they had a year ago, jumping in and attacking immediately- messily-, but in very carefully controlled motions.

It was like a morbid dance- almost completely silent, until the Kiri-nin discovered two of their comrades dead on the ground and a third one choking on blood and phlegm by their side. The wind rushed around the bristling water, diluting the blood and making the sea run read for a few moments.

Harry couldn't say he enjoyed fighting, but there was something about this- as he kicked a gigantic man (though not Hagrid-sized, of course) into one of the other enemy-nin and the impact against the rocky side exploded in his sensitive ears; the way his adrenaline rushed (did he even have adrenaline?) and his straining muscles sang with the joy of being challenged- that felt just right.

And well, he couldn't say he minded too much, considering his nature and his occupation. The corner of his lips inched upwards as the gigantic man- with a disappointed and disdainful snarl to his newly dead comrade- rose up and twisted his legs into a Taijutsu position. Harry could feel the human's pumping blood and tensing tendons and rolled on the balls of his heels on the rock he was perched upon- vaguely cursing his lack of chakra that made him unable to walk on water- tilting his body forwards. Predator, prey, vampire, human.

A fisted hand was suddenly inside his guard, and he turned sideways to avoid being hit by the kunai that was sneakily flung towards him at the same moment. Harry kicked the giant's shin, hard, and was rewarded with a grunt and a slight imbalance in the other's form.

He intercepted the next- somewhat unsteady- punch with a long-nailed (or maybe 'clawed' was the correct term, these days) grip and twisted it sideways. He heard the bones break and the human shinobi's heart speed up, and took advantage of the temporary distraction to kick his opponent in the stomach, still holding onto the broken hand. He heard the crunching of ribs and watched detachedly as the giant's eyes widened almost to the point of bulging.

He toppled backwards when Harry let go of his wrist, and fell into the waters ungracefully. Harry spun around to locate the other enemies left alive, and saw Draco dispose of one of them in a spray of blood that sent the tiniest shred of want through his head. Two enemies were still breathing, and Harry gripped a stolen kunai between his ice-cold fingers, running to meet them.

He heard their heartbeats spike in either fear or anger, and danced around the first trap sprung before him, severing the artery on one of the shinobi. The boy's expression was one of surprise as he fell down, and his comrade stopped moving for a second to stare at the deep gash across the fallen nin's throat. It was only a second's distraction, but more than enough time for Harry to slam his fist into the last Kiri-nin's chest.

They were young, he noted as they took their last breaths and their hearts slowed to a stop. Maybe fifteen or so, Harry judged and sighed quietly as their eyes glazed over to sightlessly stare up into the sky. Their expressions weren't ones of peace, but of abject horror and fear. He wondered how they had gotten pulled into this; had it been their choice, or had Kiri forced them?

"No point thinking about that now, Harry." Draco murmured quietly as he came up to stand beside the raven. _We need to confirm the Konoha ANBU Squad_. Draco nodded in the direction of an irregular heartbeat and Harry sent along his agreement.

They both noticed the wavering Genjutsu cast around the cave and approached cautiously from over the cave. It would be a bad idea to startle whoever was still left alive in there, especially when it could lead to them being perceived as enemies. Harry frowned when he felt the irregular heartbeat start to slow and carefully bent down to look inside the cave.

He met the eyes- well, eyeholes- of a Konoha ANBU holding onto another ANBU. _Their captain won't make it._ Harry thought to Draco when he noticed the twist in the blond man's ANBU tattoo that signaled his status as a captain. His heartbeat was so weak it was almost a whisper even to their ears, and there was no way they'd be able to do anything for him. He was already too far gone.

The other man, though- his heartbeat, though irregular and slow, still pounded rather strongly. That was good, though he was sorry that the man had lost all his comrades, knowing all too well how that felt. He pursed his lips grimly and vaulted down to land opposite him.

The man's mask was so splattered with blood that Harry couldn't tell what animal it was supposed to depict. He reached forward carefully and noticed that the ANBU was unconscious. _He must be hurt badly to have fallen into unconsciousness despite his ANBU-training…_ Harry frowned and trailed his eyes down the muscular man's body, scrutinizing the rips in his clothing that might tell him what wounds he should be concentrating on.

_I'll go take care of the bodies, Harry__._ Draco thought from somewhere above him and took off running before Harry had the chance to reply.

He felt around a larger rip in the ANBU's shirt, pursing his lips when his fingers came back smeared with blood. Making a snap decision, he ripped the shirt open, revealing a large, sluggishly bleeding gash. That was not good; if the bleeding was already slowing down this much, the blood loss must be…

Harry pulled out a small glass vial from a pocket and quickly slathered the jelly-like substance it contained over the man's chest, taking a break in his forced human habit of breathing to give him more focus on the treatment and not the delicious-looking wound.

The edges started to slowly knit together and Harry exhaled the stale air in his lungs with relief. If the ANBU still had the capability to heal, he wasn't too far gone just yet. Harry made sure to clean the area as well as he could with the saltwater, grateful that the man was unconscious and that the salt wouldn't pain him (…until he awoke).

The mask underneath the blood depicted a cow, Harry realized when the blood was almost gone from the white porcelain. _Or maybe a bull,_ he mused thoughtfully, seeing the horns painted by the temples on both sides. So, from the report, this man would be _Namiashi Raidou_.

Namiashi was a Taijutsu - Genjutsu user, and supposedly a rather good one too. His heavily muscled build would to his opponents eyes be both completely obvious and very deceptive- because generally Taijutsu went with Ninjutsu, and they wouldn't suspect him of weaving illusions into their minds when their eyes met.

Harry sighed. He wasn't sure how close Namiashi had been to his teammates and didn't know if he'd even been aware that he was the only survivor before passing out. He'd obviously been aware of at least one passing- Harry snuck a glance at the dead captain –but he might not have been fighting in the same area as the others. If they had been on very good terms, this loss would be unimaginable.

Some ANBU- according to Sarutobi- stayed coldly professional with their comrades, knowing that deaths hit them hard- and some developed some form of codependency instead.

It was more common to stay with one unhealthy extreme or the other; only rarely did an ANBU balance between the two. Well, it was hard to stay sane and normal in a place like the ANBU corps. It was pretty well-known even among the civilian population that ANBU were the jumpiest, most paranoid shinobi around. Ironically, this had led to an increase in first-generation shinobi in the corps. Sarutobi hadn't been sure of why that was, but Harry hadn't been able to stop himself from drawing parallels to the wizarding world.

How the muggleborns were more often than not better at magic- not necessarily stronger, but they seemed to learn faster and perhaps expect more from themselves than the purebloods did. Maybe because the purebloods had grown up so used to magic and their heritage that they didn't bother trying to reach their potential, thinking that since they were born into it, they were bound to be superior. Whereas the muggleborns practically inhaled everything they learnt, curious and excited at the wonder that magic was.

At least, that was how Harry saw it. He doubted Draco would agree with him, or even acknowledge the possibility that Harry was right- it would shake up his pride and the remains of his prejudiced worldview too much. And in the end, at this point, it wasn't like it even mattered all that much- but perhaps it was something to spark a debate on one of their days off.

Harry surveyed the healed wound carefully, judging it completely closed and semi-clean. He grabbed a hold on the man's upper arms, hefting him over his shoulder like a potato sack and jumping over the cave wall. Draco was waiting for him, clapping his hands together to get rid of dirt. He had the strangest expression on his face, half between a frown and a sneer. Harry immediately wanted to ask what was wrong, but the mission came first as long as Draco wasn't hurt, so he held his tongue.

_Draco? Can you take care of the last body too?_

Draco nodded, openly grimacing, and bent over to jump down to the cave. Harry felt a little guilty about making him do all the grunt work, but since he had been the one to administer the salve to Namiashi, he had to be the one to monitor him. It wasn't all too unusual for the shinobi to be allergic to the magical ingredients, and this salve was one of the few with almost exclusively magical components. They only had a few of the concoctions from England left, so they were only used in absolute emergencies. It wasn't like they actually worked much for Harry and Draco since they turned, anyway.

Harry caught a whiff of the burning body from down below and gritted his teeth. The smell was especially strong to their senses, and Harry knew that Draco would have stopped breathing even before the true combustion of the corpse set in. Otherwise, the smoke would go down his throat, clogging his airways and making his eyes burn. It probably would anyway, but not as bad as it could have. Harry resolved to offer to burn the bodies himself next time, if only to soothe his bad conscience.

He maneuvered Namiashi's body to hang over his shoulder and jumped towards the shore, careful not to jostle the newly healed wound.

Upon waking it would take him only a few seconds before he remembered the fight and whatever deaths he knew of- and if Namiashi had - as so many other ANBU- lived and breathed his squad, the realization that they were gone would be more than terrible. Especially if he had no remaining family members.

Harry frowned at the ANBU's body. No matter what happened next, it was bound to be troublesome.

* * *

**A/N: **And my computer is up and running again… though it still crackles ominously at me every now and then –stares at it suspiciously-. I never realized how crippled one could feel without free access to a computer, you know? Terrible how easy it is to become addicted… not that I'm truly complaining, mind you.

Well, I have some bad news; a lot of what I wrote for RM disappeared when my computer broke, which feels honestly discouraging… I hardly remember what I wrote in the chapters after this (well, I remember the outlines, but not the details)… So yeah, I'm feeling kind of pissy at this story at the moment. I'm not satisfied with the rewrite of the chapter either, though hopefully you're enjoying it.

No, I don't mean to quit RM, but I'm not going to stick to the schedule I had- I can't, because after this chapter I don't have a word more written. Rewriting this was annoying enough, and I'm incapable of forcing things out. Still, thanks to everyone who waited patiently for an update! –gives flowers-

1. Most people seemed ok with the POV's I've had, which is a relief. I even got a few PM's from people specifically asking me not to change it!

2. When the eventual (EVENTUAL!) sex scenes arrive, I received the suggestion that I could write explicit foreplay but only hinted-at actual sex. I like this compromise.

On an unrelated note: **The-Living-Shadow** thought that this gorgeous piece (on Youtube) would be suited as the duo's theme song: **/ watch ? v = qMfoRqbS – Ko & feature = fvw** If you want to check it out, just remove the spaces. It really is very beautiful.

I'll post the first chapter of my other story soon. Please review!


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